I have a gift…I won’t go so far as to call it a superpower, but in my wife’s eye – it’s certainly a gift. A gift for which – at times – she’s quite thankful I possess.
My gift? – I can’t see dust…
You know – the dust you find around the house. I’m completely blind to it. I never look across the room and think to myself: “Ughh, what a mess! I can’t stand burning wood in the winter – this place is a dusty nightmare!” I seriously never…even…see it.
Here’s how great (or bad) it is, based on your perspective. The first time Dionne came out to the house – I cooked and decided to actually act like a respectable human being, serving dinner at the table. When she got up, she immediately noticed that she’d left behind a perfect imprint of her butt in the dust on the chair. Seeing as it was a long-distance relationship at the time – she was in Germany, I was here in the Ozarks – I had a keepsake to enjoy during our extended time apart.
Today – like I said – Dionne’s a little thankful for my dust-blindness because she never feels any pressure from me to bust out the lemon-fresh Pledge and get to work. Surely she’s annoyed as well, though – because if I ever DID notice, it would give her an opportunity to say: “Yes, it’s dusty. Why don’t you do something about it?”
But here’s my theory…about dust and those obsessed with cleaning it up. These lunatics of cleanliness are the ones who are always stuffed up, regularly sneezing, and always SICK. Think about it, not only are they always amped up about dust on the furniture – their solution is to then constantly dust the house – constantly reinvigorating the at-home atmosphere with airborne dust particles they then breathe in; rather than allowing the filth to remain where it lies – outside of their lungs.
We always herald and admire the Kings of Clean, yet these incredibly disciplined individuals are always the ones with the aggravated allergies. They’re like pollinating bees – rather than keeping the dust in their own hut, they stir it up every day, breathe it in, and pollinate our air space with ever ah-choo, every cough, every tissue-soaked snot launch.
Listen – for the good of mankind and for your own family’s health, develop this superpower…I mean gift. Being blind to the dust in your home can only improve your life, and the lives of those you – pollinate – every day.
I may not be the Surgeon General – but this, my friends, is sound advice.