On Reverence to Higher Beings

For those that have been around a while, (Hey Neighbor – have the Aliens dropped in, or are they still doing fly bys?), well I understand the phrase I'm looking for is something like "Cleanliness of body was ever esteemed to proceed from a due reverence to God."

Or for those not out and about during the 17th century, something about they who keep ‘em selves clean are somehow closer to their Invisible Friend.

Now let me first say that I ain’t implying that my fellow cube dwellers at Puzzle Palace are necessarily filthy swine.

Nor do I have any desire to convert them to obsessive compulsive, country music listening, beer drinking, football loving critters ... though I have oft contemplated starting that Cult. The whole bit about swapping the Coopers for the spiked cordial on that final day of Honky Tonk Ascension never quite played out right.

Mind you, if the colorful globules of protein and nasal contents left sticking to the Puzzle Palace basins are anything to go by, a reassessment may be required of the porcine element within the cubist population.

What has me stumped (and slightly panicked) is that there seems to be a partiality to avoid washing hands with soap after "dropping the kids off at the pool". In fact, some don’t even bother with a rinse or even a dry wipe with a paper towel.

Now, I understand these people haven’t exactly been cuddling rats, or fondling lice covered monkeys … but they are pretty much going from handling food, to fiddling with bits of the nether region – with the odd caress of the germ clad porcelain – and then straight out the door back to their desk. Well “desk” is a loosely used term, as they have less surface area than an airline tray ... but that is a story for another time. Or maybe not their desk – maybe straight from the small room to the coffee room (or "pantry" as it is know on The Island). Or maybe to straight out shake someone’s hand. Maybe my hand ... (!)

And I mean it’s not like the amenities in the pisser are poorly appointed. There’s no cake of soap that has been stewing in its own juices on the side of a basin – it’s fresh, hygienic liquid soap.

In Puzzle Palace “Hey, more for Me” is usually a win. Not so with the ever near-full 2 gallon bottle of soap that smiles malevolently at me as I plod toward it and the washbasins.

Now where and when I grew up, we was learned that to win ya got to keep escalating the battle. So tomorrow I take one for the neat freaks. I’m leaving my OCD in its tidy little carefully arranged square suitcase at home. And I’m packing mud cakes & dung beetles for lunch, and after hugging a warthog I’ll leave a loaded diaper on the basin in the lav.