Cleanliness is next to Godliness

I think the average American has a misperception of the English as quaint, simple people who attend Anglican services in Gothic cathedrals and invite the vicar round for tea. The six English boys I went out with over the years, including the one I married, are all godless heathens. Our English ancestors were Puritans who fled these people who mocked their pious beliefs, and my experience with the Brits leads me to believe all the religious ones caught the boats out.

My darling Mr. Sweetypants was not only raised without religion, he's a brainy scientist who reads Einstein and Richard Dawkins for fun and is a card-carrying member of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti monster -- even has the noodly-appendaged one badged on his car.

Religion or lack thereof was never a concern for the two of us as we decided to team up. I did grow up in the United Methodist church, but aside from making crafts and marching around, belting out "Onward Christian Soldiers" at vacation bible school, I never got much out of it or the whole memorizing-scriptures-and-creeds-and- dogma thing. I lost what little religion I had, ironically, at my Church of Christ-founded liberal arts college, whose mascot was the Fightin' Christian.

I don't disclaim spirituality. Organized religion doesn't do much for me, but I do hedge my bets and would never say I don't believe something else might be out there. I attended Unity church during my early 30s spiritual crisis, even had a Unity wedding. It's a really nice approach to living: It's all Golden Rule-as-interpreted-by-many-cultures-based.

In my adult world in the creative underclass, I haven't run across many church-goers. On the rare occasion I have, I've stopped myself from drawing back and asking, "Really?"

My bi-weekly house cleaner's business card reads "Son-Shine Cleaning." She has a "Got Jesus?" plate on her car. We give bags of clothes to her to take to her church's outreach center for the underprivileged. (Oh, and big disclaimer lest this seems classist: She owns her own business and lives in a bigger house than we do.)

I left her a note this morning to please clean under the bed. She did a great job, and neatly stacked the things she pulled out from under it on the side. Atop the various notebooks and cat toys was Steve's paperback copy of "Atheist Universe."

While I have no problem with or any desire to read the book, I have a problem with offending my cleaning lady. I don't believe in hell, but I really hate that she might think I'm going there, instead of Steve the heathen who bought and read it. I also don't want her to pray on our godlessness and decide she needs to quit. Her rates are really great for this area, and I've been using her for so long that I've completely forgotten how to be motivated to mop.

If she leaves, there will be hell to pay.