This is a post about how perfection is the enemy of progress. The thing is, this is true all the time, but I feel like it’s especially important to remind ourselves now, when we’ve been through so much, and it isn’t over yet, and we still need to be extra kind to ourselves, not to mention our family and friends and co-workers, who are also trying very hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other. So here’s the story: A while ago, it was time for us to replace our 300-foot-long driveway, so we contracted with some very competent, able-bodied cement guys. They put a date on the calendar for the following spring, and we waited (patiently) until May came around. Then they came one day and ripped out the old driveway, fully intending, of course, to replace it later that same week. Alas, as my grandmother used to say, “Menschen tracht unt Gott lacht.” That means people plan and God laughs. Ha-ha.

I could start a long explanation here about how the original driveway’s footprint veered unexpectedly close to a property line, but I would prefer not to go into it. Let’s just say there were technical difficulties. But that is how I found myself parking out on the street for most of the summer, while we gathered the requested paperwork and photographs and survey results, and then waited through the dog days of summer to give the city council the necessary time to rule that we could, finally, replace our driveway.

Although you might find it amusing to learn that I had to keep a wheelbarrow parked by the street for groceries and the like, it did not feel very amusing at the time. But here’s something that did actually lift my spirits: Within a couple of weeks of parking out on the street, I noticed that my pants were a little bit looser. You’ve probably already figured out that we have a long driveway, at least in comparison to all the other homes on our suburban street. But it’s not like we’re set back a mile or anything. Even still, just having to walk an extra 300 feet 2-4 times a day more than previously was obviously enough to make a difference in how my clothes fit. You can believe me when I say that it wasn’t much more than that either, because I made it my business to be very efficient about the number of trips I had to make to get to my car that summer!

I have written on this theme before. It goes by other names, such as “the excellent is the enemy of the good,” or “every little bit helps,” or “every little bit counts,” or “you don’t have to do everything right, just pick the first right thing,” or “whatever you do, please just stop drinking soda/pop,” or “can I convince you to try eating a high-protein breakfast instead of that candy they call breakfast cereal?” or “what do we have to do to get kids walking or riding bikes to school again?,” and so on.  Just pick one thing — it’s a great way to start.

No one was more surprised than me to discover that just a few more steps a day made a real, measurable difference in how my clothing fit. If you’re not up to walking 10,000 steps a day, I understand. But ask yourself this question: How many more steps are you willing to take? How many steps do you feel up to adding to your usual daily number? Can you add 300? Or 600? Just to clarify, I’m not asking how many extra steps you could take this weekend, but then not again for a long time, no matter what the reason. I’m asking how many extra steps you think you might be able to take so easily that you can probably do it for a few months. Whatever number you pick works for me. And it will work for you, too. I promise.