I was expecting a visitor to come over to my house tomorrow, so I dusted.
Like most people, I hate dusting. It is a futile waste of time because no sooner is it done, it needs doing again. It’s the housework equivalent of eating Chinese food!
Dusting blows, but the results are breathtaking. Everything is so sparkly and clean and … reflective. This wondrous sight sees me making solemn vows that I will dust religiously from this moment forward so I can live in this permanent state of shine and gloss.
But the vow is soon forgotten and months can go by before I bother to do it again. In between my dusting bouts, I kinda aim the vacuum at the dust and pretend it’s done a good job.
The irony is, I own a dust-cloth, a dust mitt, a long-handled fluffy duster for those hard to reach places, and a dusting wand. Socks and undies also double as dusters, if handy at the time I am overcome by the sudden urge to clean.
About an hour ago, I received a text. My visitor can’t make it. I gotta tell ya, I’m a little disappointed she won’t bear witness to my dust-free environment. It deserves to have people sit in its presence and be revered.
Still, I will enjoy it for as long as it lasts – which will be about this time tomorrow. Sigh!