If you ain't gonna do it right the first time, don't do it at all...

As I recall, my grandfather was working on his truck one Saturday morning, going through the normal routine of checking the oil and other fluids in a ritualistic, obsessive fashion my generation has never acquired.  I firmly believe (and by believe I mean in the world created in my head because I've never actually studied the disability/behavior...whatever you want to call it) ADD is a phenomena for people my age and younger.  My grandpa could sit there in front of the open hood of his truck for hours tinkering with one part, while I can hardly sit here in front of this screen typing for five minutes without staring at the wall or wandering into the next room. 
Anyways, Boppa, as we had come to call him, was working on his truck, and I was watching, albeit for the short time whatever he was doing caught my attention, trying to understand the purpose of a dipstick and why somebody would name a car part a bad name.  But, I was eager to contribute.  Boppa was not so eager.
"There are other chores to be done around here," he said after I asked if I could help him for what must have been the thousandth time.  "Why don't you sweep out the garage?"
It sounded like a fun activity.  A little manual labor, some dirt and grime to make me feel like a man, so I accepted the task.
I returned to the hood of the car and Boppa five minutes later.
"Finished," I said.  "Now can I help you with the truck?"
Boppa put his grease rag down and looked out from underneath the hood.  The garage was as dirty as ever, minus a few brushed portions behind the Chrysler minivan.
"If you ain't gonna do it right the first time, don't do it at all," he said, returning to his work.
The words stung, and I left the garage with my head hung low.  Such a small point in time, a blip on the chronology of my life, but somehow it's stuck with me like toilet paper to a shoe.  A constant reminder of something I did that stunk to high heaven, trailing behind me long after the deed was done.
And so this blog I dedicate to all those times when the things we do in life isn't the best it could be, so that I, and maybe you, may learn from those lackluster efforts and put forth a better effort tomorrow.  And if not tomorrow, then the day after.  May we be haunted by those memories and experiences.  Not like the ghosts hiding in the attic, but by the kind that make us smile and laugh to ourselves, while everyone else around grants us a ten-foot radius because they think we are crazy.