Day 2. Dust, my old nemesis.

Day 2. Pretty damn impressive, eh?

So… I’m lying in bed doing my pre-sleep writing thing last night when it occurred to me that yet again I’ve said I’ll do something that will most definitely clash with my core personality trait of “Person who doesn’t do stuff with any semblance of regularity.”
I like to think that it’s not that I’m lazy ( though in all fairness I would really, wouldn’t I? ) I just can’t seem to do actions consistently.

Take, for example, dusting. People in houses generate dust, this I know. More people, more dust. Excess dust makes me wheezy, so to stop my respiratory system shutting down for giggles I’m aware that regular removal of dust is pretty much what I should be aiming for.

Do I?
Pfft.

Often I can spend weeks wondering why the tv signal isn’t as crisp anymore, or come close to a skin-flake avalanche nearly claiming one of the smaller children before I realise “Hold on… it’s a bit dusty in here, isn’t it?” ( The standard retort to which is “No shit, Sherlock” in this household. )
I just don’t see it. Well, obviously I *see* it, but the response of “Hmm, you really ought to do something about that, you don’t look terribly attractive when your lips turn blue, you wet yourself in an asphixia-induced panic and keel over…” just doesn’t kick in.

Luckily, my other half is very understanding and will often go fill a bucket of water and go do the cleaning himself. This invariably kick-starts the Housewife Failure Guilt Spiral, which would be devastating to my sense of self-worth if I had any sort of functioning memory. In actuality I just end up feeling monumentally bad during the dusting process itself but have completely forgotten about it the next day. Except for maybe glancing around now and then and wondering why everything looks so much nicer, whilst being unable to put my finger on exactly why.

Incidentally, I’ve tried Googling for handy housekeeping planners and reminders but the most popular ones seem to involve such delusions as “Only 10 minutes per room per day!”, which I’m gonna have to call BS on. You can NOT clean a room in 10 minutes, hell …it can take me 10 minutes just to get a day’s worth of debris out from underneath the dinner table. At absolute very best you’re wiping crap from one place to another. Wiping does not equate to cleanliness. I wipe my arse on average once a day but that doesn’t mean it’s sparkly clean and ready for you to eat your dinner off it. Not that you’d want to. An arse-sized plate, who could possibly eat that much ??

Anyway, I digress. I thought for tomorrow I would attempt a book review. Of a book I haven’t read yet, ’cause that would hopefully be slightly more interesting than a rough outline that anyone who’s actually read it could spit out.
Plus, it seems that this blog has a bit of a running theme of general avoidance goin’ on, so it makes more sense to write about a book I’m avoiding despite forking out real actual cash for it.

I’ll go rummage around the bookcase-shaped living room dust and see what I can come up with 🙂

 

 

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