I just got rid of enough dust in my room to create another human being. If you believe in that old saying “from dust we came, to dust we shall return”, the resurrection and burial of a years worth of dust has been removed from my bedroom. Some of it up my nose, in my eyes, and sticking to my curly new do! And I am only half way through and I am not kidding.
I guess I am a dust hoarder. No, it’s not that. I hoard other things. Cute little jewelry boxes. Odds and ends bits of jewelry and other things too good to throw out, waiting to be sorted through. With all these little things accumulated on my dresser and side table, not to mention the books and hair products, dusting is not just dusting. It is sorting, remembering when and where and why I got that item. And why did I keep it? And I can’t just throw it out. But who would want it? And that’s why I hate dusting. And that’s why I don’t do it. So when I do…the resurrection of all that silently sleeping dust begins. And the whole time I was doing it, I thought I’d rather be writing. Therefore here I am, taking a break from the world’s most boring, thankless, useless task: DUSTING!!! Because after all this effort, I will just have to do it all over again next year.