Getting a lesson in perfectionism from the printer: (The good one.)
"Nothing is ever perfect." Brian the printer: "That's right, & the sooner you accept it the faster you can forgive yourself 4 the mistakes."— Jen Lee (@jenleedotnet) April 24, 2012
Compiling all the addresses into a spreadsheet, but then not being able to figure the mail merge out. (Oh well--handwriting is better than labels anyway.)
Thinking removable mailing seals sound like a good idea.
Noticing a few popping off, and thinking, I must not have gotten them on good enough. Rubbing them back on with your fingernail because that will do it, right?
Watching the postal worker drop a huge stack of international-bound mailers in her giant cart and seeing a seal pop free right before the pile falls.
Knowing as you walk away that it will be a small-scale disaster. Imagining them all coming apart, getting returned to your tiny postal box which cannot hold them, or arriving postage due. Feeling your whole body tighten with dread.
Searching all over the neighborhood for "permanent" seals. Believing when you find them that this time it will work.
Folding every domestic mailer, plastering them with little white circle seals. Bundling them all into your market bag.
Carrying them to the postabl box, only to find these labels popping off, too. Rubbing them back on with your fingernail. Dropping half of them in before realizing that it will be a small-scale disaster.
Imagining them all coming apart, getting returned to your tiny postal box which cannot hold them, or arriving postage due. Feeling your whole body tighten with dread.
Calling your mother, who has a much stronger relationship with objects and the physical world than you do. She suggests staples, or tape. Feeling foolish for ever trusting those damn white circle seals and their lofty claims.
Remembering last night's revelation about all you cannot control, the futility of trying to hold it all together, and the calm that followed. Acknowledging the way your peace and hoped-for enlightenment are brought to their knees in an instant by a rebel force of little white circle seals. Spiralling into crisis because you literally cannot hold them together.
Longing to pull it off exquisitely, with joy in your heart and ease stretching across the morning of your face, but knowing everything will conspire to remind you: you cannot be anything but what you are. A beginner.
Please send forgiveness and understanding my way if your white circle seals don't hold. I'm leaving the comments open because I could really use the good news if any of these catalogs arrives successfully. The third batch went out Saturday, with tape. And it's not too late to request some good mail.