Dust

We had a garage sale earlier today. My mother wanted to sell my clothes dresser. (And technically it's hers, so who am I to argue?

However, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with my clothes. I asked her, and she said, "What do I care?"

I stared at her and Mom said, "Don't hate. That's how I roll."

True story.

But it's not the real reason I'm writing this post. As my dad and I were moving the dresser upstairs, he commented on how dusty the top was.

"Yeah," I said, "I don't dust."

"Well, you need to."

"See, the thing is, I'm allergic to dust."

Later, my mom castigated me, saying that if I'm allergic to dust, it's all the more reason to dust, so it won't be there. See, I totally disagree. When you dust, you kick the dust up into the air. This is what's known in the medical community as "not healthy."

In fact, the only real reason to dust is vanity, wanting the furniture to look good (and not wanting the neighbors to think you're lazy). As a more self-actualized person than most, I feel I'm above such petty insecurities.

It's partly because I'm allergic to dust that I don't dust. By not dusting, I don't kick the dust up into the air where it can hurt me. Instead, I try to keep it in a few designated spots (like the dresser the desk, the bookcase), where I can keep my eye on it.

Why is it I'm not lauded for my breakthrough in heal maintenance?