Happiness. It's relative.

Why do I own a toilet that requires a Q-tip to clean the hinge connecting the toilet seat and the lid, not that I regularly clean said toilet with a Q-tip but looking at the toilet just now, I see it, the smudge of unspeakable grime in the hinge and I’m wondering if anyone at the famous, world-renowned manufacturer of cutting edge bathroom fixtures -toilets that magically tend to the cleaning business of humans and bathtubs that blend into the blue of the horizon – has subjected their fixtures to the cleaning regimen of everyday people, armed with the normal supply of rags and cleanser and toxic, bleaching chemicals, or does their art prevent such mundane considerations, after all, if you are Leonardo da Vinci, it is not your job to notice that Mona Lisa has just the tiniest bit of a runny nose happening, probably a precursor to a full-fledged cold that came upon her a few days after Leonardo had wrapped things up, how could he be held responsible for that glimmer of imperfection, so, thinking that, I acknowledge that my toilet, while not a work of art, is certainly lovely and not pedestrian in any way, the unfortunate smudges notwithstanding.
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Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash
So true about cleaning stuff. I look at everything I buy through the lens of “How easy will this be to clean, dust, wash?”
She had a cold? Here I sit, contemplating (wasting my time?) on mysteries and meanings and Mona had a runny nose. Delicious.
Ha!