This morning I burned my toast. I wasn’t doing anything wild. Just multitasking — emails, Slack, to-do lists — and forgot it was even in the toaster. By the time I noticed the smell, it was too late. Black as asphalt. I almost tossed it. But I didn’t. I scraped off the char with a butter knife, made coffee, and sat down anyway. And you know what? It was still pretty good. Not perfect. But good enough. We wait so long for things to be just right — the perfect time, the perfect mood, the perfect plan — that we miss what’s already in front of us. Rumi once wrote: Sometimes you just scrape the toast and move on. | 