I choose peace over perfection.

Perfectionism gets described as vanity, which misses what it is actually doing. Most of the time it is anxiety with a job.

Reformatting a document at eleven at night is not about the document. It is about the reliable small relief of having one thing under total control while everything around it is uncertain. That is why it is hard to stop. It works, briefly.

Peace asks you to let something leave the building at ninety per cent and to survive the discomfort of that. The first few times feel like carelessness. Then the odd thing happens: nobody notices, and the evening is yours.