I feel like goldilocks. Every house is either too clean or too dirty for me.

The too clean people seem to be avoiding more serious tasks, serving some inherited templates, or punishing themselves for some sort of ancient sin.

The too-dirty people often are making a great show for someone else somewhere else, but don’t make time for their own quality of life.

I believe cleanliness should serve the senses, not righteousness: walking barefoot across the floor, destickying your fingers, a clear view, a welcoming table, drawers that present your favorite things, rather than a tangled, pokey jumble.

It should not be an escape, a penance, or a performance. It should not be a self-punishing denial of pleasure, but a service to pleasure. And that is where every person finds their right amount.