The Little Boy Who Cleaned His Room
Once
upon a time there lived a kind, unassuming little boy. He lived in the woods with his mother and
father. As he grew up, he went to school
and did all of the things little boys like to do. He would often play outside, pretending to be
a cowboy or astronaut or dinosaur. When
he was out in the forest, he also enjoyed making friends with the animals, and
caring for the plants. He loved the
earth and everything on it.
Not all
was sunshine and fun in the little boy’s life.
You see, the little boy’s mother was very insistent that he keep his
room clean. This was very hard for the
little boy, who was often daydreaming and playing instead of searching for
chores to do. When he went to bed at
night, he left his clothes on the floor right where he took them off. When he read a book, or drew a picture, he
put it next to his bed or on a table where he could easily reach it when he wanted
it. The little boy’s room was always
cluttered, filled with the things he used and wore, none of it organized, but
all of it accessible. When he was forced
to clean his room, he tended to lose things, and even the greater freedom of
movement could not compensate for the sterile gloom that engulfed him as he sat
in a room that looked un-lived in and unfriendly.
When
the little boy’s mother cleaned, she used big, loud vacuum cleaners and
sharp-smelling, brightly-colored chemicals.
She scrubbed everything, and even the wooden floors and furniture
supported an artificial glow, reflecting the beams of light from lamps
unencumbered by dust. Meanwhile, in the
little boy’s room, dust bunnies scampered beneath the bed, cliffs of books
towered over sweeping savannahs of jeans and t-shirts, and the most efficient
pathways from door to closet to bed to bookshelf cut river-valleys of clear
floor through the landscape.
As the
little boy grew older, his mother complained more and more about his room, so
he cleaned more and more. He picked up
his clothes, toys and books. He used the
vacuum and the chemicals. The cliffs and
valleys disappeared, the landscape became flat and uninteresting, the dust
bunnies died off. The more the boy’s
room was cleaned, the more energy, vacuuming, and chemicals were needed to hold
back the entropy, which until the boy began cleaning had been kept in a natural
equilibrium with the environment.
Outside
of their little home, power plants and factories sprang up in greater numbers
to provide the chemicals and vacuums, and the electricity to power them. They mined the earth for resources, leveling
the cliffs and filling in the valleys.
They dumped the byproducts from creating the vacuums and chemicals into
the rivers. The landscape became flat
and uninteresting, the animals died off.
As the little boy and his mother increasingly forced order on the inside
of their home, the outside world which the little boy loved so much became
forced into order in an effort to sustain the supply of cleaning products.
One day
the boy went outside and looked around.
He wanted to go explore the forest, but it was gone. His animal friends had all left or were dead, killed by the pollution. The small plants were also gone or dead. And even the wooden stumps and rivers
supported an artificial glow, reflecting the beams of light from a sun encumbered by smog.
He later died of lung cancer and sadness.
Don’t clean your room.