Like some forgotten, untied shoelace, there always seem to be things that are not quite finished, not quite completed, not quite wrapped up in a way that would allow for a comforting forgetfulness. For example, there are some spots on the minuscule front lawn that need reseeding. There's a lawnmower that needs to be replaced. There's a tube of toothpaste that needs to be squeezed up from the bottom. I imagine everyone's got these little nags in life.
And on my Tooth Fairy list of things I would like to do and may never do is the book I wrote several years ago -- "Answer Your Love Letters: Footnotes to a Zen Practice." Back then, I pasted the book together, found an inimitable friend to help me shape and polish, sent it to a publisher, laid out the money and voila ... there it was. But later, I wanted to make it available for electronic sale -- on Kindle and stuff like that. And the same inimitable friend did the heavy lifting -- getting the Internet coding just so. It was a hell of a gift. But in the process of shaping the electronic version, I added some pictures, tucked in some calligraphy, trimmed some short chapters, and added others. It wasn't a major revision, but...
Now, nagging like an untied shoelace ... I really would like to send it back to the paper-version publisher and revise the paper version to accord with the Internet production. The only problem is that from the publisher's point of view, that amounts to a whole new book ... with a $2,000 price tag to be absorbed. Since I am retired and doing the Social Security two-step, it's unlikely to happen.
In my logical mind, it doesn't matter much ... books are just books. But in my childish, 'important' mind, I really would like to get it 'right' -- make the paper version accord with the Internet one. I like the pictures and the calligraphy ... and I like the substance added.
$2,000 was once a difficult but do-able amount. Now it's not.
I guess I should be grateful to have shoes, but this nagging shoelace ... well, is there anything without its nagging untied shoelaces?
On the one hand, "OK."
On the other hand, "shit!"