My mother was a perfectionist, the strict image of stern discipline and the contempt for one's own limits. She valued hard work, disregard of exhaustion, pain or needs. She always reached the target. Merciless towards herself and others. Sharp-witted, with sense but no sensibility. She commanded respect, but not love. She seldom laughed and although she could be sarcastic she lacked good humour.
And I am betwixt and between both of them. I adore the charming idler. I adore defiance of weakness. Very disciplined, really idle, accurate and careless, an ascetic full of disparate pleasures.