I have friends who would look up at that tiny mistake in the paint job of my family room ceiling and shrug it off. They wouldn't ever think of it again, except if some fool of a houseguest pointed it out. In which case, they would shrug once again and say, "Oh yeah. That was a mistake," and go back to watching tv.

I have other friends who would look up at that spot and run to get the touch up paint and a brush. Those friends would have it fixed before you could blink, and smile sheepishly at the rude houseguest who pointed it out.

Still other friends would never let even the tiniest flaw show up. They would be so concise in their paint application that a mistake would be nearly impossible. A houseguest couldn't find a fault with their ceiling.

Me? I choose to ignore that spot and hope that anyone who comes to my home is kind enough to ignore it too. I look up at it occasionally, pondering whether to fix it, but I still haven't. I'm not sure what that says about me, but I don't much care to be labeled anyways.