I have this tendency to try to do things meticulously. I sometimes seek perfection in mundane tasks. For instance, I keep thinking, I need to read a particular celebrated author very carefully. I need a physical copy of the book to be able to underline beautiful prose, think deeply about the ideas and then write about them in my journal or blog. Over time, I have realized that adding this barrier of reading very carefully made me read a lot lesser. “Perfect” settings for reading were hard to come by. I don’t often have hours to sit and underline things while sipping on the perfect cup of cappuccino in a dimly lit cafe. While it would be lovely to have that perfect setting, I realized, I cannot let phases of my life not be enriched by books just because I am seeking the “perfect way” of reading.