When I was in college, I always carried the idea that “next semester would be better.”
Next semester I wouldn’t have this class with such a heavy reading schedule.
Next semester I wouldn’t be bothered by a work-study job grading papers where the professor would call me at home early in the morning asking me to come in for a half-hour of work. I can hear her now: “Rachel…?” (I would still be in bed.)
There was always something wrong that I would be able to fix “next semester.”
Finally one day it occurred to me that there would always be something to fix, something I wouldn’t like, and something that couldn’t be fixed. I didn’t need to have something be “just right” for it to be good.
Now when I see something about my appearance, my home, my circumstances, my job, my family, or really anything at all that I want to be different, I know that’s part of this life. Even though I keep goals, hopes, and plans, I’ve learned not to let “perfect circumstances” be a condition for my contentment.