Breaking things comes easy to me, almost as easy as ruining things does, when I disregard my instincts. I am not a hopeless klutz but it is in my nature to talk myself out of wise courses of action and into far less wise ones, all in the name of doing things “perfectly”.

Saving time, money, people’s feelings, and other precious resources factor into my definition of perfection. Perhaps if I didn’t focus on those considerations quite so wholly, my brain would pay attention to what I’m trying to tell myself.

Last week it was a green glass pitcher (not mine) that could not withstand having boiling water poured into it, so instead of a beautiful pitcher of iced tea there was tea water all over the stovetop and ominous cracking sounds. Time saved: none to a negative factor. Items ruined: 1 unreplaceable, irreparably. Thoughts at the instant the kettle whistled: maybe I should brew in a separate container, what’s 1 separate container, after all, if I know it can take the heat.

Also down for the count: an aluminum pan which I put into the dishwasher with great misgivings and almost took out before starting the machine. My internal debates happen over the most inconsequential things these days.

It is my great good fortune to have a sister who lives within swift striking distance of the NordicWare factory, so that one may look ugly but it will soon be replaced. I squandered the 30 seconds saved by putting it in the machine instead of washing it by hand, without even registering their passing.

There is good reason it was not my pride and joy that ended up scarred for life. I should pay more attention to the instinct that kept it from such a fate. I intend to.

But would that mean I’d have to shift my attention from the exacting details of other efforts? Why yes those *are* homemade starfish-shaped graham crackers. Coming soon to the G, along with me.