I know that no one is perfect, but there are people that seem perfect. One of my piano student's father is one of those men that reveals no flaws. He is intelligent, handsome, articulate, friendly and engaging, a good provider, his lovely and personable wife is content, his two precious daughters run to greet him at the door when he comes home from work, his home is kid-friendly, and everyone in the family seems well-adjusted, loving, loved, and happy.
So when I heard this story about him I was a little surprised. I know he isn't perfect, but that was only in theory; until I heard the story I had no proof that he wasn't. It isn't much of a mistake and really doesn't qualify him as an ignoramus in the category of Yours Truly, but it is proof that even Mr. A. isn't perfect. His wife told me that he was putting Christmas lights in the front yard tree. This year he planned to do a better job than last year, so he went up a little higher. However, he went up too high, became frightened, and was unable to climb down, so he hung there on a little branch for awhile and then called his wife on his cell phone. She said he seemed fairly calm, but he wanted her to help talk him down. If he couldn't make it, they'd have to call the fire department. The wife and his two daughters talked him down with encouragement and offers of hugs and cookies and hot chocolate if he'd just take those first few steps down.
I won't bring it up to him, and I won't mention the fact that his Christmas lights are REALLY low in the tree this year. I used to take secret pleasure when other men would do somethin' stupid or silly like that, but nowadays I am saddened. It's as if my own ability to at least appear perfect has somewhat diminished, which should no longer concern me since my motor mouth destroyed all pretensions of perfection long ago.