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is a medal. It doesn’t have to be fancy or engraved or even made out of metal. No strings attached necessary. No ribbons. No ceremony. No podium. Just a medal.

The definition of good-for-nothing.

 

For doing the dishes. And folding the laundry. And putting most of the laundry away in drawers. That’s about all I seem to get done these days around this joint I call home though many other tasks beckon–or at least I think they are beckoning but it’s hard to see for sure under the piles of paper and books and such. People get medals for running races–I have acquired several of them over the years–but I think it’s much easier to run a race than to to keep doing the unglamorous day-in-day-out crapola of life where there’s no date to focus on, no cheering crowds, no bands playing, no finish line (in sight, anyway), and no post-doing the dishes snack under a tent. Want to know my folding the clothes time p.r.? That’s what I thought.

We breathe dust. It’s on our clothes in the closet, our tables and windowsills. As far as I can tell, it’s unavoidable. If it’s outside, we don’t tend to call it dust unless perhaps tumbleweeds are involved. If we are to return to dust and we live among it every moment except when we’re in the shower and then we live among mold and soap scum, why all the products dedicated to eradicating dust in our homes? A cheap thrill to wipe away the past?  I suppose going with the flow of dust is what happens when you don’t swirl a finger through dust accumulating on a piano. Going with the flow means letting it clog the exhaust fan over the stove which leads to no flow at all. Write what you know; it’s easier than cleaning. Shred what you don’t want anyone else to know. I’d rather clean than shred.

the 30 day shred is easier

There really is no getting away from dust since that is what we are; one of the many yucky things we produce. It certainly is where we are. Hey, I vacuumed tonight, but it’s not as if that changed the premise or the promise of what’s to come. 

I’m back!

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