I am here, clean again. That says it well enough, although some would be tempted to use an imagery of adjectives and references to Ivory-soaped babies, spotted with talcum powder and lying on a fluffy white blanket in a pool of sunshine that dances through the window much like the sailboat beyond the panes glides across the waves.
TAKE A BREATH.
TAKE TWO.
Today, now that I am clean, I want to do something; thanks to the clean factor, I find it prudent to rule out things involving dirt and sweating. That leaves me in a quandary. Napping is clean, but it is on the shaky side of “doing something.” Going out and buying something for me, me, me, me, would be clean enough, but not prudent. Especially, if I manhandled myself into my car and went to Jefferson Mall, rather than Wal-Mart.

Did you ever wonder why Wal-Mart doesn’t have a pianist at a grand piano in the atrium formed by the escalators? Oh yeah, they don’t have escalators. So how about an automatic keyboard with an associate pretending. It would just be cheerful, dontcha think?

I hear they have strict rules at Wal-Mart, such as you have to call Arkansas if you are sick or you must pass a customer off on to another associate if it is your time to break, lunch, or clock out. I don’t know for certain about this and am going to have to look it up.

And then I will probably tell Wal-Mart just how to run their business.