#hygiene
how washed am i ?
how washed do i need to be ?
ask the icy river
Dec 19, 2025
Dec 19, 2025 at 10:01 AM UTC
I wouldn’t call what we do ‘blogging,’ would you?
I’m somewhat conversant with blogging and it would be like:
‘December 14th, I realized I was out of dental floss, so I called 112 (France’s 911) and they yelled at me.”
A poet might say:
The morning was pale and judgmental, the light didn’t illuminate, as much as accuse me of oversleeping. I’d just spit-out the last of my bubblegum toothpaste, when I tugged the dental floss only to be rewarded with a two-inch fragment.
The sink gurgled like a drowning swimmer as I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and then the linen closet - where we store spare soaps, shampoos, mouthwashes and the other detritus of modern hygiene -
but no floss.
I’d started the shower minutes ago, expecting a quick entry and now the bathroom had become sauna-like. French bathrooms have these box-like, ‘on demand’ water heaters, like 2 gallon coffee percolators, that dispense hot-as--holy-hell water, the mist of which, falling on the chilled, white, underfoot tiles, created a ceramic slippery-slide. I searched Peter and my travel toiletry bags, but alas and again, no floss.
The ticking clock, that merciless, bureaucratic tool, mocked the undoing of my morning schedule.
In a moment of clarity, born of despair, I picked up my iPhone and demanded “Siri, call One-one-two!”
The French telephone system returns a higher-pitched, single-tone ring with longer pauses in between.
Three rings later I got an answer, “This is an emergency.” I announced (‘C'est une urgence’).
“What is the nature of your emergency,” a calm, dispassionate A.I.-voice asked.
“I’ve run out of floss.” I blurted.
There was a long pause where I could almost hear the A.I. dispatcher glitching.
“Mademoiselle,” it finally said, “calling 112 is not a joke.”
“Neither is plaque!” I replied - thinking of how proud my dental hygienist would be of me.
“Yet here we are,” I added, before the line went dead.
.
.
A song for this:
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_21.mp3
Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 10:15 PM UTC
This clean cup! I washed the cup then drank from it, leaning against a leather wall. Eight whole years of prehistory, searching for a cup of swilling-in-the-night-air. When it was found (filled with sawdust and feathers) we rejoiced!
Jul 3, 2025
Jul 3, 2025 at 11:34 PM UTC
Melt the lump rising in your muscle.
Burst the pulse swelling in your mind.
Take a ride to the haven in your veins.
Carve pottery from the remnants of your ashes.
I understand the pain that stings your abdomen when you hustle.
I know how much those harsh periods confined you.
Your eyeballs screamed out the stigma found in your stains—
colors that made rainbows when they flashed.
It wasn’t your fault.
I know the stains may shame you,
but believe me—you won’t die.
Don’t lose the fight to that material you can’t afford.
There are days coming when your body will leave this cave of ignorance.
There is a solution that will change the game.
There is something called antibiotics that will dry your tears.
This red fluid is called menstrual discharge.
It isn’t an illness.
May 29, 2025
May 29, 2025 at 7:48 AM UTC
Hygiene costs smooth rooms,
electricity and a --
lot of loneliness.
Sep 25, 2022
Sep 25, 2022 at 4:02 AM UTC
Midriff burning sensation,
Exactly as if it will explode,
Nocturnal timings help,
Stark daylight is undesirable,
Troublesome five days,
Ripe burning inside the temple of life,
Under the wicked sky,
Awry is the cup for collection,
Lopsided is its construction.
Cusping the proof of life,
Unfailing burning sensation,
Pouting by the end of a month.
Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 10:46 AM UTC
For once I was lost
When I was searching me
I found you
For once I followed my eyes
It led towards you
For once I followed my heart
It led towards you
For once I followed my soul
It led towards you
For once I was lost
No way out
And followed the light
There you were
All the times
The truth of you
Jan 23, 2021
Jan 23, 2021 at 8:50 AM UTC
Napoleon Bonaparte
1769 Corsica is where he got his start
One of the greatest commanders in history
His manner of death a 200-year-old mystery
Napoleon played it close to the vest
With his armies he was always the best
But 'twas nothing he could do
When he met his Waterloo
Lived his last few years under house arrest
Napoleon drank the water and headed for the loo
He did nothing different than you or I could ever do
Be kind to your skin and protect your bone-a-parts
Remember that's where good hygiene starts!
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 12:00 PM UTC
be more thorough
with your dental hygiene
lest the breath
behind the breath
get out
and things become veterinary
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 11:12 PM UTC
.
Henry VIII was a deluded monarch,
he could never have ruled the Earth,
for he hasn't seen his **** for years,
hiding beneath the bulk of his girth.
And wobbling onto the battle field
is not the behaviour fit for a King,
he would have to sit nursing his cysts
and hoping the ointments don't sting.
His eating excess was cause for concern
but his syphilis remained largely unseen,
and one really has to feel so sorry for
whomever it is that is currently Queen.
His penchant for young and younger Ladies
made him a stranger to baths and soap,
and his bed hopping antics to sire a son
bought him much trouble from the pope.
© Pagan Paul (09/12/18)
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
You know you've got a problem
When candy is more than dandy—
When all you want is sugar,
And start trading teeth for candy.
O.O
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
It was cold and I was tired
so I fell asleep
with the taste of Sunday still in my mouth
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC