Meet my husband, Paul G. Zubrowski, better known to me as Mr. Thorough.
From the chore he's assigned himself today (removing the scum and mold-encrusted sink handle bases in the bathrooms to bleach-clean them) to the amount of practice and thought he puts into leading worship for care group for the past 11 or 12 years, to his 25 years of attention to detail as a commercial insurance underwriter, Paul is thorough.
He shops sales ads for the best prices on anything and everything. He saturates himself in subjects that he loves to read about, namely the Almighty and the Almighty Dollar. When he makes breakfast for the family, he doesn't just fix eggs and toast; rather, he'll spend a half hour making a full spread of omelets, hash browns, bacon, biscuits, and orange juice.
Give him a house project like painting a room, he has the tenacity of a bulldog and the precision of Michelangelo. Before one of the kids embarks on a job interview, he will grill them on their motives, strengths, goals, answers, and wardrobe selection. Plan a trip and he'll find the fastest route, the cheapest rates, the tastiest restaurants, and the finest views.
His logic is thorough. He can counter any argument if prompted. (That is to say, he's not argumentative, he can just poke a hole in almost anyone's reasonings.) I often think he'd make a great trial lawyer.
When he goes over the checkbook, prepares income tax refunds, or seeks a better mortgage rate, Mr. Thorough is in his element. One time we were at a home settlement, sitting around the table with agents, brokers, and title officers who had printed out countless stacks of papers with endless columns of figures. Without a calculator, Paul spotted a $300 error in our favor. He politely asked for one of their calculators before pointing out their mistake. I loved his humility and his eye for numbers. (I vaguely recall the broker saying, "We even put these numbers through the computer twice. How would you like a job?")
I could say more about Mr. Paul Glenn Thorough right now, but I'll let this much suffice: I love his thoroughness. It gives me a great sense of comfort that he sees not only the big picture for our family, but has the details in mind that are like strokes on a canvas. He reminds me of God that way.