Dust, dust, dust!
My neighbor is one o' them storytellers who's got to give you every
detail of a story no matter how mundane. He's an old geyser like me
so he's got nothin' but time on his hands. For example, this is what
he says to me the other day:
'What in blazes? The missus is runnin around the house with her dust
mop like Errol Flynn in a sword fight. Duster poised in her hand like
a deadly rapier, she's stabbin' here an' there with pin point
accuracy, all the while mutterin' loudly about where is all the dust
comin' from.
“Didn't you vacuum just yesterday?” she wants to know.
“I did.”
“Well then, you tell me where all this comes from?” she says,
takin' another series o'pokes at one o' the picture frames on the
wall.
“I dunno, from in the air I guess.”
“It's driving me nuts!”, she says.
“Don't touch it – don't see it,” I tell her.
“There's a limit to that,” she says, quite rightly.
I don't know what to say to that. It's not that the missus is lookin'
for a solution, cause there ain't none available. You can't just go
an' get yourself some cataracts so as you can't see nothin'. An' I
can't believe that this is a new phenomenon neither, cause dust has
been around forever. It ain't as bad as it used to be back when
Saskatchewan was migratin' across the country to Kenora or wherever
in the dirty thirties mind you, but there seems to be a lot more of
it around. I don't know, maybe it's just comin' loose from the ground
an' hangin' around, suspended in mid air. Wouldn't surprise me none
neither, what with all that sand and stuff they scatter all over the
roads in winter. You'd think in winter there'd be no dust around, but
the missus is right. It's all over the place.'
That's the story he told me, an' it got me to thinkin' about dust an'
all. See, I got a theory that it's comin' from someplace else, maybe
from Japan or someplace like that. It wouldn't surprise me one bit.
Well you can see by the junk in the ocean which way the tides are
blowin' where that garbage comes from. We seem to be havin' an Asian
invasion of sorts, so maybe that's where the dust is originatin'
from too. An' the way them volcanoes keep spoutin' off too, it's no
wonder we got dust in the house.
An' the other day somebody discovered some kind'a disease germ in the
permafrost up north that could'a been responsible for killin' off
them dinasaurs way back when. They say it ain't contageous, but do
you believe everythin' you hear on the news? We're getting' to be
somewhat dinasaurs ourselves an' who knows if there ain't some o'
them germs floatin' around in the dust. I wouldn't put it past 'em.
Gives a whole new meanin' to; “and the meek shall inherit the
earth” don't it?
Holy crap! We ain't gonna put up with that! So we went out an' bought
one o' them dust buster hand vacuums you can do some serious dustin'
'round here with. You gotta fight fire with fire, I always say. Well
I don't always say it but by gum, we ain't gonna take this lyin'
down! If somebody's gonna send us dust, we got the equipment to bust
it. At least that's how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.
Just sayin'.
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