It’s not that he wasn’t talented. In fact, most things he touched turned to gold. “You have the Midas Touch,” said his Carla who lived down the road. “Everything you touch turns to gold. If only you would declare something finished.”
Of course, most of the things Milton began he did in fact finish. It’s just that he was never completely satisfied with the finished product. A pruned hedge would always have a leaf out of place; a landscape scene could always be signed on the left-hand side instead of the right; a finger for four seconds longer on the pottery lathe could transform a pot; two minutes more in the oven could turn his oatmeal cookies into culinary masterpieces. He was forever fiddling.
He knew he had a problem. That is when Carla from down the road stepped prominently into his life. Carla finished everything, but she finished everything in the sloppiest manner and then would quickly move on to another interest. Her artistic standards were as appalling as Milton’s were finicky.
It was most unfortunate that they fell in love. They moved in together. Their house was an utter mess; an unbelievable chaos. Both blamed the other. They each planned a murder with guns. Carla pointed the gun at Milton and pulled the trigger. Her manner was sloppy. The bullet missed and made a hole in the print of John Constable’s Flatford Mill hanging crooked on the wall. Milton was more precise. He pointed the gun but simply could not finish the job.
They both agreed – what the heck! They compromised. These days they manage to help each other out.
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