Today, I finally tackled something that’s been quietly mocking me for over a decade—a TV wall mount that’s sat untouched on the floor in front of my dresser since I bought this house. Eleven years. It became part of the scenery, a symbol of procrastination I stopped seeing but never forgot. But this morning, something shifted. I got a wild hair, grabbed my tools, and mounted that TV all by myself. It’s not perfectly centered—there’s a stud and a floor vent to blame—but it’s up. And for the first time in a long time, I feel proud of something I did.
It wasn’t about the TV. It was about finishing something I’d let linger. About proving to myself that I could do it, even if it took eleven years and a burst of stubborn energy. I didn’t ask for help. I didn’t wait for the “right time.” I just did it. And now, every time I walk past that dresser, I see more than a mounted screen—I see a small victory. A reminder that progress doesn’t have to be fast or flashy. Sometimes, it’s just about finally doing the thing.
I laughed while I worked, muttering to myself about how “stupid” the mount was, how “stupid” it was that I waited so long. But underneath the sarcasm was something softer—relief. I’d carried this undone task for years, and letting it go felt like shedding a layer of guilt. It’s funny how small projects can hold so much emotional weight. This wasn’t just about home improvement. It was about reclaiming a little confidence, a little momentum, a little pride.
Of course, I know someone will point out that it’s not centered. But I’m not here for perfection—I’m here for progress. The stud was where it was, the vent wasn’t moving, and I wasn’t about to let symmetry stop me. Life isn’t always centered either. Sometimes you work with what you’ve got and make it good enough. And honestly, good enough feels pretty great right now. I’m not chasing Pinterest-worthy results. I’m chasing completion. And I caught it.
I’ve done bigger things in my life, sure. But this one feels different. Maybe because it was mine from start to finish. Maybe because I didn’t let another year go by with that mount gathering dust. Or maybe because I finally stopped waiting for someone else to do it. It’s a small win, but it’s mine. And I’m going to celebrate it—crooked TV and all. Because pride doesn’t come from perfection. It comes from persistence.
So here’s to the little victories. To the projects we finally finish. To the studs that aren’t where we want them and the vents that get in the way. To doing it ourselves, even when it’s not perfect. And to the quiet joy of looking at a mounted TV and thinking, “I did that.”
