I am in a newly constructed house. The air smells of sawdust and cleaning detergent, crossed, multiplied and layered elegantly over the volume of the house. Cupboards, trims, finishes, tiles, wood, paint; all are in their place – aligned, straight and true. I can hear only my own solitary steps and shuffles. I know that most people would be more easily satisfied, but I'm just not most people. I look at things differently. I survey details. I'm looking for cracks and scuffs - signs of error. But anxious as my eyes may seem, inside I am relieved.
I kneel on one knee to inspect the dried paint of some four-inch base trim. I run my thumb over its surface as I feel for irregularities. I find none. The paint is smooth. Even the counter-sunk nails are elegantly and consistently done. I stand, feeling a smile sneak into the corners of my lips.
I carry with me a heavy, metal triangle. I hold the triangle up in the corner of the room, horizontal, with a side of the triangle against each wall. Again, as with the trim, my expectations are exceeded. I feel the smile broaden on my face of its own accord. Finally, before leaving the room, I lay a level down on the hard-wood floor in the centre of the room. Concentrating, I slowly rotate the level around in a circle. When, finally I have completed a 180° sweep, I stand again. This relief is magnificent. This room is perfect. No just good, not just passible, but perfect. I have no assurance that the next room will be the same, however, and so the relief is short lived. My tools in hand, I move into the next room. It's pretty much identical to the first at initial glance, but I won't be fooled. I survey the space from the doorway before heading over to inspect the light switch more carefully.
How I ended up here I don't know, but I'm getting used to it. It's as if this eternity expands and extends the moment of satisfaction that rarely greets the perfectionist in this world of entropy. I can leave my frustration behind. Now I am rewarded by the forces of space and time. This is a world of right angles and evenness, of flush surfaces and straight lines. All that is solid, is, and remains, solid.
- edited Sunday, January 14, 2007
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