The sun rises every morning and shines its orange-pink light through our apartment windows, illuminating the room and everything in it. It lights up the dust that seems to settle on every surface and float in every pocket of air I glance at.
I dusted and wet sprayed the apartment this Sunday. P swiffered, vacuumed, and mopped the floors last night.
And yet.
The dust still reigns.
I do not think I will be able to conquer it.
Not when I see it on my iPad keyboard, wipe it off, and watch more settle on it instantly in the sun’s spotlight.
The dust is relentless.
Has anyone, anywhere managed to get a handle on it? Do I need to be spray-wiping every day? Every few hours of every day?
It comes from the vents, it comes from the pollen outside when I open our balcony doors, it comes from my hair and Phoebe’s hair and P’s hair and all of our skin and also the dryer and the lint and our clothes, and the soil from the plants, and the dirt from our shoes when we come inside.
There is always construction outside, no matter where I live in Miami, so if it’s not pollen, it’s construction dust making its way through the air outside and into our apartment.
I want to be like Martha, dancing with my vacuum cleaner as I suck up the hair balls and dust bunnies that creep along the floor. Or like Kim, whose apartment surfaces shine like they’re in a commercial for a cleaning product.
But right now, I’m just me, surrounded by dust, staring at it sticking to the iPad keyboard as I finish typing out this slice. Wondering if it’s even worth trying to get rid of at all.
Writing With Abandon 
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