Cleanliness: (n) the state or quality of being clean or being kept clean
If I were to draw a picture–a logo or representation of life on Planet Earth–it would be a roll of paper towels.
I know some people would disagree. They, perhaps, would suggest a tube of make-up to smear over the top of everything, to make it appear better. But once the make-up is washed away, ugly is ugly.
Paper towels are what we need.
Even though the prudish adage tells us that “cleanliness is next to Godliness,” such a statement boggles the mind with its inability to be practically applied in real life–in real time.
Most of the time we are not clean.
It reminds me of walking away from a dinner table and having someone point out that even though I used my napkin and wiped my face, there are several splotches of food decorating my shirt.
It is obvious what we’ve been doing, no matter how many moist towelettes we may have used to cleanse us of all of our clumsiness.
It’s just a good idea to let people know that you’re traveling with a roll of paper towels, fully aware of your mistakes, excesses, dribbles, drabs and droppings.
Perhaps cleanliness is a virtue, but the belief that we should remain that way may be the root cause of many people’s journey to insanity.
I am flawed.
I am often dirty.
I am clumsy.
I dribble my soup before it reaches my mouth.
I dribble from my mouth without use of my brain.
That’s why I need to warn people of my inadequacy by carrying around my symbolic roll of paper towels, letting them know that I am fully aware:
In the grocery store called my life, there’s always a need for clean-up on Aisle 4.