Imperfection

The file cabinets are finished in a honey-oak stain. They have rounded wooden handles of the same color, evocative of the late 1970s. They were constructed for a different space, so they are 8 inches taller than the desk they currently 'complement.' While they function great, in my eyes, they are ugly, ugly, ugly.

Because of the layout of our house, our office is combined with our T.V. room - the room where we go to relax at the end of the day. Of course, my eye would always seek out and fall on these file cabinet eye sores, and almost every night I would try to devise a plan to replace them with something more attractive, even though doing so would require spending at least $600 dollars on new office furniture, or about $2,000 if we bought the cute, mall-brand office furniture I *really* wanted.

Then one night, I had the epiphany: what if I *live with* the imperfection, rather than actively upsetting myself with it? Don't get me wrong: I still don't like the way the file cabinets look, but I am happy living with them if it means I keep money I don't need to spend in my own bank account (or, I can do something really valuable with that money, like take a trip). Not feeling beholden to a magazine-level perfection in my own home released me from a constant nagging feeling of dissatisfaction I was carrying around, saved me money, and saved our landfills from the burden of two lovingly constructed, if unstylish, filing cabinets.