From the iPhone Case to the Floor

Sometimes what I do is drop my brand new "Notes to Self" iPhone case on my tile bathroom floor.  I do that so I remember that things are just that.  Things.  

Not really.  

I do that because turns out the Kate Spade cases are slippery little suckers.  So much so that when I went to pick up my phone in the right after the last floof and poof in the mirror, it done slid right out of my hands and onto the floor with a rather loud whack.

It really wasn't a let's remember what's important in life moment.  It was more of an insert sailor word kind of affair.      

But I will say this.  When I picked it up, I saw the corner had a smidge of character added.  In simple terms, scratched...it was scratched.  And I actually felt relief because now the first smack has been done.  Not perfect anymore.  

Then because it's what I do, I compared that silly phone case to real hum dinger life and had the notion of a reinforcement in my belief that it's too hard to be perfect all the time.  The first scratch is necessary.  Makes me real.  Makes me more likely to jump and go for the second and the third and the fourth because the pressure is off.

All that from a thing.  A real cute looks like a mini black composition notebook thing which I can't deny does indeed make my heart a tish happy.