What scares me about heaven.

Heaven, whatever that is, is supposed to be perfect — right?

This doesn’t sound very interesting to me.

Maybe, as I have no concept of perfection, not even a taste, I have no clue. Sort of like not being able to say you don’t like coffee until you’ve enjoyed a properly roasted and brewed cuppa. Earth is Folgers. Except infinitely more disparate.

My favorite thing to do is fix things and problems. Doing this for eternity would be my ideal. How does that work?