Liking things just so, or is it just glossy lipstick on a pig?

The year 2020 will go down as one for the history books. Not only is it the year I finally understood why you can divide zero, but anything divided by zero is a null-burger, but it is also the year of COVID-19.

The pandemic has forced humanity to face its one of our biggest fears－ourselves. Yes, self-quarantining has forced us to spend months on end alone with someone we have probably avoided for most of our lives－again, ourselves.

For decades, many of us have stood in front of the mirror each morning for a quick shave－or makeup application－without giving the apparition in the glass so much as a second thought. This is often because others are banging on the door wanting to brush their teeth, or perhaps there are calls from the kitchen warning that our waffles are rapidly assuming room temperature.

But with the extended lockdown, many of us have been forced to self-isolate, thus making the morning mirror mystery an uncomfortable reality uninterrupted by the ephemeral needs of others.

Other than whether we can actually truly know ourselves, or even if a true self actually exists (after all, every time we wade across a river, it has by definition changed like us)－what is the point of cleaning?

The question is three-fold.

First, no one truly enjoys housework. The phrase that cleanliness is next to godliness did not include the janitor at the Pearly Gates in the polling. Erma Bombeck, a humorist from the United States who achieved great popularity for her syndicated newspaper humor column describing suburban home life from 1965 to 1996, famously said:"Cleanliness is not next to godliness. It isn't even in the same neighborhood. No one has ever gotten a religious experience out of removing burned-on cheese from the grill of the toaster oven."

Second, why bother fastidiously tidying up one's kitchen on a daily basis if the second law of thermodynamics says that entropy always increases with time. Isn't it like standing along a bank and skimming river water for fallen leaves? Won't the leaves keep on flowing downhill? Why bother? OK, perhaps there's something to be said for staying ahead of the curve and controlling clutter before it controls you.

Third, and most germane to the COVID-19 era, is "why bother"? I can hear neatnicks making a collective gasp. "Why bother? Pathogens want you to think that way!" they rightfully claim. But other than keeping surfaces from becoming private Petri dishes, to spend hours each day scouring floors and countertops is a task for Sisyphus, not we mere modern mortals. During COVID-19, sparkling shelves and orderly sock drawers can only be appreciated by that guy staring at you in the mirror, and Rain Man types. After all, during lockdowns, living room poker parties and home bridal showers are heavily discouraged. So a fastidiously fortified fridge that is "just so" is mere lipstick on a pig, ie, unappreciated by others.

Poet Han Yu (768-824) during the Tang Dynasty (618-907) wrote in South Mountains:

Scattered like loose tiles/Or running together like converging spokes/Off keel like rocking boats/Or in full stride like horses at the gallop/Back to back as though offended/Face to face as though lending a hand...

His juxtaposition of order and chaos is dreamlike. Quite the same reality many of us take when we squint our eyes each pre-coffee morning and imagine a spotless floor awaiting a party of three cashed-up card players.

Contact the writer at andrew@chinadaily.com.cn