Recently, dust and I have become better acquainted. I am SURE now that there is NO END to the dust in the world. It's like water, which evaporates and then comes back as rain (thank goodness). Dust goes on your rag and then out the sewer pipes via your washing machine. But it is VERY clever, it comes back. How, I don't know. But it does. It just does. Rats.

You ask, How have you become better acquainted with dust? I'll tell you how. Because the roofer, turned pressure washer, pressure washed our filthy black little house. He's going to paint everything white on the house, which is all the trim. We have French doors and windows. They are considered white, although before the pressure wash, that was very questionable. Black comes to mind. After the wash they looked more gray. So I took it upon myself to go out and give them the onceover with a toothbrush, spray bottle of diluted vinegar and rags, baby, rags. I believe in painting CLEAN surfaces, although my friend is in favor of painting on top of the dirt because then you have more texture and interest. I think I've mentioned this before, when DTD'S old bedroom got painted. But then again, maybe not, as the bedroom was painted right before my blog began. I feel like I've been blogging from the womb, but in truth, I've just passed the two month mark. At any rate, I am not a Texture woman. I am a Plain Jane woman and require SMOOTH surfaces. Please, don't even get me started on the subject of Cottage Cheese Ceilings. You will be VERY SORRY if you do. Just ask my brother-in-law.

So, of course, I'm really talking about DIRT. Wet dust. Gross. I still don't know why God didn't say DIRT instead of DUST when he made us. Definitely, the grime on the MULTIPLE panes of French glass is DIRT. Then, with one little spray of wet, it turns to mud. I'm telling you, I had a ball doing this in the wee hours. So far I've cleaned 55 little pains . . . I mean panes. That took me from midnight to 2 AM, something like that. Well, that was 45 pains. Today when the painter showed up, well, he'd been there a few minutes, I gave him a little speech, I know I'm a pane, I mean pain, but I have to clean all the wood on the French stuff before you paint, I'm sorry, but I just HAVE to. He said, Great, have fun. I'm glad he didn't march off the property in a huff, assuming (see below) that I thought I could top his pressure wash. He is very nice. Well, so last night I also cleaned the front door, which is a SMART door, and I was SMART to pick it out. It also has 15 panes, but they are not pains, because they are sandwiched in-between two big sheets of glass. So, it LOOKS like panes, but it's not . . . not exactly. You just squirt your vinegar and wipe in one easy fell swoop. Mental note . . . when I build dream cottage, ALL windows and doors shall be this way. Today I cleaned the French door in the master bedroom, the one that leads to nowhere, to the blue yonder sky (refer to earlier blog). It was a ROYAL 10 PAINS to scrub because it was EGGSTRA dirty.

Now, if all this isn't bad enough, tonight I get to wash another 50 pains. I wanna cry. In fact, last night I DID cry. Doors and their jams have so many SURFACES, go examine a French door, if you're unfortunate enough to have one. I'm not the type to leave any of these surfaces neglected, orphaned. If Uncle Pete were around, he's say, Kathryn, you make such a BIG DEAL out of everything. Well, there is one thing I have had to let slide, and that is the ledges on the trims of the regular windows. See, the painter beat me to it, he went ahead and painted some of those ledges, before I showed up with my vinegar, before I delivered my CLEAN FREAK talk. Dadgum. So now I will have to allow all the rest of those ledges to be texturized with dirt as well. So they will all match. I am left choiceless in the matter. I wouldn't want unmatched window ledges, would you? He pressure washed them, but I've read where nothing but soap and a brush will REALLY clean. Mike wishes I hadn't read that. But I did. I'm going to write a book, By All Means, SWEAT the Small Stuff. The painter said something really funny today, but I can't remember what. Rats.

Then to top off all this sadness, I see an article in the paper today about PROCRASTINATION, which I am obviously engaging in right this moment, blogging instead of washing. My Webster tells me that the "P" word means "to defer action; delay." And "to put off till another day or time." That's how I've always understood it. The article today, titled "Read this now, not later" was written by Marvin Walberg. He used a different Webster which said "P" means "to put off intentionally and habitually the doing of something that should be done." Wow. That sounds so much more menacing, criminal even, than my pleasant "defer, delay, put off till another day." My Webster definition sounds like you're simply off to a tea party. It even rhymes. His definition make one feel characterless and spineless. That "one" would be I. Marvin continues with HIS definition. He harshly admonishes, "Get to know what that word (the "P" word, of course) means and how it applies to your life . . . I don't care who or what you are, if you can call yourself a "P" . . . you will miss goals and quotas. You will attain less than your capability. YOU WILL SUFFER" (capitals, mine). He says, Just do it (whatever you need to be doing), like Nike. Just do it -- now. Then he blabs about familiarizing ourselves about the word "Assume" and likewise applying that word to our lives, or rather unapplying it, so we can reach our potential. Did you know we shouldn't assume anything?? If we do "it will hold us back." Marvin is very scary. Does this mean that if I "P" washing my pains and "assume" the magic little fairy will wash my pains for me while I am in dreamy slumber, that I will awake to disappointement, to dirty pains that still need washing and I am still the one who is going to have to do it?? I guess so, because Webster says "assume" means "to pretend to have or be; to take as granted or true." And fairies ain't true, at least not in my experience. Rats. Wowsers, I suppose I've lived my whole life just supposing. Weird. Hey, "suppose" strikes me as a funny word. Say it out loud a few times.

The bottom line, according to Marvin, "Get "P" and "A" out of your life now!"

Okay, I have to go out in the dark and wash the wood around the panes. Otherwise, not only will I awaken to dirt, but painted over dirt. Can't have that. Once though, when the upstairs bathroom was being redone, I was too doggone tired to wipe the baseboards, I just GAVE UP. It looks okay, but I still think about it, What sinister dirt is buried beneath that glossy paint?

Weirder than Usual,
KEM