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There’s No Such Thing As A “Perfect” Day

There’s No Such Thing As A “Perfect” Day

Lucy King recently tagged me in her story asking, “what’s a perfect day for you?”

And my answer is:

I don’t work like that.

And I know that now we’re talking about differences in values and viewpoints and core beliefs, so it’s worth saying: there is nothing wrong with thinking about perfection and “perfect days” and wanting them. But that’s not me.

There are good days, of course. Great days, beautiful days, and once-in-a-lifetime days, as well as “everyday” lovely days. But there is no “perfect” day.

The reasons:

This is the way many people interpret this question, citing things like “sleeping in,” “working out,” “eating brunch,” or “chilling with their cat,” but static, certain lists like that just don’t resonate with me.

I mean, don’t get me wrong — I still have simple, everyday things I enjoy, and I could have easily answered this question by listing some off. Things like: “waking up early,” “early morning light,” and “black coffee,” because those things are super consistent. And I could tell you things like “a beer or glass of wine,” “being outside (maybe a patio?),” “cruising with the windows down and the radio up” or “riding” when it’s a perfect 75 outside, and “hanging out with people I love,” “people who make me laugh,” or, ideally, both. And all of those would be true, too. And sure, if I had nothing else, that is definitely a good day.

But the details beyond those get fuzzy when you ask me to name them; to nail them down, put them in a labeled box and close it up as “perfect.” Because, sure, I like waking up early, but some of the best days of my life involve late nights — drinks with friends, or bonfires, or wee-hour chats. And I like long rides on the bike and other leisure activities, but I also really like having a job — and doing it.

So I guess what I’m saying is: it’s not that simple.

Some of the best days of my life have been things like:

But would I call these “perfect?” No. I would not want to (and in many cases, could not) live these over and over again.

I appreciate them because of their rarity — the way they’re set back like tiny coves, or perhaps shooting up like little mountains, in the topography of my life. That is why they’re good. These days can’t be orchestrated.

Days are a part of the overall weave of how we live our lives, not standalone but rather set against everything (though, lived only by the moment we’re in.)

So what I’m saying is: there is no such thing as one single “perfect” day.

And I like it that way.

Black coffee, getting outside, laughter, and ending with wine or a beer. Enough structure to not feel listless, enough freedom to move through it how I want, and just enough contact with others to feel warm to the touch.

There’s No Such Thing As A “Perfect” Day

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