I was sitting on the couch, minding my own business, completely unprepared for the impending assault.
And then it happened. The first bomb dropped.
Gray, fluffy, and at least three inches in diameter, it landed squarely on my lap. And before I even had time to register what it was, the air around me was suddenly filled with them. They rained down from above, liberally scattering themselves all over my couch, my carpet, my dog, my hair.*
*And my mouth, before I remembered to close it. Pttthhh.
Dust bunnies, y'all. Sprinkling from my ceiling fan like dirty, annoying snowflakes.
I don't know why it happened. Number one, no one was doing anything to the fan to dislodge that much crap. I mean, it was spinning, but it had been spinning for a while. Number two, I have cleaned it recently. And by "recently" I mean like a month ago. But still! My house may not be the most immaculate joint in town (case in point: this), but I have a hard time believing that it's so incredibly dusty that my fan blades were all, "Man, we can't even spin under these seven thousand pounds of dust! Let's throw it all over the living room in protest!"
Things like that are like salt in a wound, you know? I mean, it's bad enough that we have to pick up toys and clothes and crap and keep things tidy. Then on top of that we have to wash dishes and laundry and bedding. And on top of that there are toilets and carpets and bathtubs and sinks and counters. It sucks to keep up with all that as it is - and then you add things like ceiling fans and high-up knickknacks and curtains and grout and window sills and baseboards and dryer vents and walls and the insides of dishwashers. And a whole bunch of other stuff that, as proven yesterday, may actually assault you if you do not clean them with satisfactory regularity.
I mean, seriously, when you think about it ... everything is dirty. And once I get started cleaning the "unnecessary" stuff, I never know where to stop. I'm wiping yogurt off the wall (what??) and suddenly I see a handprint so I wipe that off too. And then the spots I've wiped look clean compared to the rest of the wall, so I think maybe I need to clean the entire wall. While I'm cleaning the wall I notice that the doors are also smudged with dirt. And then the door frames are dusty. And, oh, speaking of door frames, look at the tops of those picture frames! And those light fixtures! And that space where the carpet meets the wall in everysingleroom!
Fantastic artwork by the inimitable Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half. Go right now. It's hilarious.
Madness, I tell you.
To protect my own sanity, those are the kinds of things I only clean when they are like totally filthy (or when they fall onto my head while I'm parked on the couch). Because if it doesn't pose an immediate threat to my family's health and/or my ability to be considered a "fit mother" - or make someone gasp in horror when they enter my house - I'm not overly concerned about it.
Please tell me I'm not the only one who may or may not be growing colonies of strange organisms behind my refrigerator ... do you clean ALL the stuff ALL the time?