The Quest

Today’s big revelation about myself: I can be a bit of a perfectionist. I know you’re all shocked. I once had a teacher tell my parents, “Bookgirl isn’t good at getting things wrong.” I was six. Yes, little Bookgirl was essentially grown-up Bookgirl, except shorter. And without the boobs.

That search for perfection, combined with a vivid imagination, well it’s gotten me into trouble over the years. I’ll get something in my head. Something I want desperately. Nothing but that particular thing will do. And that’s when the quest begins.

My bathroom walls were blank for a year and a half after my last roommate moved out, because I had a vision in my head of what I wanted. I wanted the perfect art to match the pretty dark red bath mat. Changing the bath mat was nonnegotiable. They had to match. They had to call out to me. And nothing I saw in any store, street vendor, or website fit that vision. I finally found prints in Seattle, when my friend Danielle took me shopping. Not only are they perfect, I get fond memories of a great vacation every time I walk in the room. It was worth the wait.
When I was a teenager, my poor mother got the worst of it. I’d make my Christmas list every year, and there’d be some starred item, something I REALLY wanted. It was always something smallish, not very expensive, so my mom would go to all sorts of lengths to find it for me. One year it was the forest green Chuck Taylor All-Stars she finally found in a navy surplus store an hour away. Another year, it was green and white striped tights. I had black and white, and I loved them.
But I really wanted green stripes too. My mom searched. And searched. And searched. Finally, on Christmas morning, after I opened my presents, she apologetically told me she couldn’t find them. Where, for the love of God, had I seen them? At which point I explained that I had never seen them. Ever. Anywhere. Not on someone. Not in a store. But the Strawberry Shortcake dolls had them. And the witch in the Wizard of Oz. And wouldn’t that be cool??
Needless to say, as an adult she requires careful annotation from me at Christmastime—exactly what I want, from where, in what size and color if applicable. Some years I’ll send her an email with the subject line “Buy me for Christmas” and a link to buy exactly what I want. She likes those years best.

So now we come to my current quest, the search that has me looking high and low in every home and kitchen shop in three states. It started with the curtains. My mom made me forest green gingham curtains when I moved into my apartment. (It was 1998. Forest green was the height of cool. I loved them.) But by last year, they were getting a little tired. So the search began. We looked at fabrics and curtains, and nothing was quite right. Until I found The Ones. The catch was they were just panels. And they were 82” long. Not quite right for the kitchen window. So I bought two of them, and mom trimmed them down to the right size. And then she used the extra fabric to make a valance and matching placemats. Yes, I’m spoiled. Horribly.

So the curtains are in place, and they’re perfect. But the kitchen accessories are all still forest green. Wouldn’t it be great if I replaced the trash can and dish drainer with pretty hot pink ones? In theory, yes. I’ve tried everything—home stores, department stores, The Container Store. Even Target failed me. And Target never fails me. I emailed every friend who had either filled out a gift registry or bought a new house in the last two years. Someone had to have seen them, right? Wrong. So I make do with my second-best, forest green trash can, resenting it a little every time I look at it. But the quest continues. I have hope.