Cleanliness is nowhere near godliness
Most people make resolutions on New Year’s Day. I make them the day after I file taxes. I always vow to get organized and clean up that compost heap on my desk. This year I have finally mustered the courage to just give up. I’m not going to get organized.
“Cleanliness is next to godliness?” I know for certain this isn’t in the Bible and in my dictionary the two words are exactly 201 pages apart.
Neat people have been using this tired, inaccurate quote to become insufferably uppity. Whomever you live with, be it your spouse, children, parents or domesticated domestic partner, the cleaner person always takes the high moral plateau. They do so with only slightly less martyrdom than Gandhi fasting for peace.
The purveyors of sparkling toilet bowls, lemon fresh ovens, see-yourself-shine dinnerware, pine-scented closets, stripped-and-waxed floors are taking over. Those demanding that everything be folded neatly and put away, organized, sorted and Rubber-Maided at every opportunity are the goose-stepping armies of cleanliness trying to trample the spirit of those of us not so inclined.
Repeat after me or, better yet, go tell this to that spud you live with: “Cleanliness is nowhere near godliness. Godliness is on the planet Pluto and cleanliness is barely backing out of your driveway.”
A little dirt is safe. A little dirt is environmentally friendly. You too can make slovenliness work to your advantage.
Your Home: Too neat of a yard is too inviting. A spotless yard invites all sorts of magazine-selling, doctrine-arguing folks to walk right up and knock on your door. Who needs that? It also lends itself to that affluent look that is inviting to burglars.
By leaving lumber, tools, bicycles and garden implements tastefully scattered around, you can always give the impression that somebody is home.
Crooks are going to think, “How come that guy has a chain saw and two axes sitting out there when there are no trees in his yard? Maybe he’s a little too crazy for us. Maybe we’ll just try the house with the impeccable landscaping.”
Your Car: Dirt is a cheap burglar alarm. Make your car the least attractive one on the lot and it is less likely to be stolen. I don’t fix dings and small dents, I don’t wash my car and I keep a healthy collection of spent Seven-11 food paraphernalia strewn within my car. Sure, someone might still steal it for the recyclable aluminum and paper, but they won’t steal it because it looks like a “chick magnet.”
By leaving my car in it’s natural state of entropy, I have saved countless thousands of gallons of water and forced many teen-agers to choose the path of righteousness … or at least some else’s unlocked car.
Personal appearance: I’m not talking about fly-gathering lack of personal hygiene. I’m just suggesting that you dress down a little. This is an excellent way to avoid panhandlers. Although it’s not much of a problem here in Logan, when you go to the big city you are often besieged by requests for money, alcohol and directions to the nearest UFO abduction site by well-meaning panhandlers. By dressing down and making yourself part of the urbanscape, you can avoid most of these annoyances. I have gotten the look down to the point where I can say with a straight face, “Whatta ya mean? Do I look like I have money?”
I don’t believe any of the more prominently worshiped gods have ever actually written anti-bacterial soaps into the doctrine.
Dennis Hinkamp works in Media Relations at USU. Comments may be e-mailed to dennish@ext.usu.edu