November 7, 2013

Dust-bunnies and wooly-webs—where do they come from anyway? All I can say is that I’ve been chasing, swiping and banishing them since forever. Then tomorrow—there they are again! 
The great thing about aging though, is that you need the help of eyeglasses to see anything further away than the reach of your hand. And believe-you-me, I stretched and reached as long as I could before giving into the inevitable. Thought I’d best see the eye-doctor though, before my hands started dragging on the ground.
So most of the time, the dust doesn’t bother me like it used to; only when I settle down with my cuppa and a good read, put on my glasses and happen to glance over at the lamp table next to me—oh the shock and dismay! 
Thankfully, there are all kinds of innovative (and pricey) tools for dedicated dust-chasers these days, implements with lofty promises demonstrated by impeccably dressed ladies, coiffed and air-brushed to perfection, conquering their dust-bunnies effortlessly with said miracle-tool. On tippy-toe they reach with ballerina-grace, swiffing the tops of book-shelves or ceiling fans, instantaneously transforming their homes to sparkle and shine. It’s almost convincing, and even though my head knows better, my heart yearns for such a miracle. All I need to do is buy this coveted tool and I will magically turn into a smiling, radiant beauty, gliding through my home, banishing dust and dirt with the greatest of ease! Right.
In the grocery store, I ponder over the choices—brand name or generic, the less-expensive model. I choose the brand name, pricey though it is, substitutes might not achieve the miracle.
At home, I can’t wait to open the box, envisioning the miracle tool that will, at last, conquer the dust-bunny colony. Out comes three pieces of flimsy plastic that must be fitted and snapped together. At the end of one is a double-prong that looks too delicate to withstand any kind of battle, much less the war against dust! 
I peer into the box again to find a small plastic bag containing a piece of fluff. The directions say to slide this fluff onto the double-prong. As I do so, my heart is already sinking and I know I’ve been duped. I paid how much for this?
Well, it can’t hurt to try… so with my new miracle dust-busting tool in hand, I attempt the ballerina-glide, swiping and swiffing the tops of surfaces, dipping and bending to swiff the piano keys and pedals. Pirouetting with glee, I pass a mirror and note with disappointment that the image looking back doesn’t even begin to resemble the beautifully dressed and coiffed lady I saw advertising the product. On the contrary, this one was rather frightening to behold! I moved on. 
The fluff-of-fluff at the end of the dust-busting prong was now gray with dust. “Ah-ha! It’s working,” I exclaimed to no one in particular. 
The directions say to discard this dust-laden fluff at the end of each cleaning session, and replace it with a fresh one. Since only one is provided in the kit… well, you know what that means. I’ll need to buy replacement fluffs. 
By now I’m getting the idea: costly plastic pieces worth a fraction of their price, and costlier fluffs that, if we’re to believe the directions, must be added weekly to the grocery list—seriously? Yup. I've been duped.
The old-fashioned dust-cloth-taped-to-the-yardstick is looking pretty good about now. It works for the high-spots, and then an old clean sock-on-a-hand works wonders for the low ones. Gramma had it right from the start! And these tools are washable, even bleachable, and best-of-all reusable!
I wonder what Fivelina uses to clean MouseHouse. She keeps the place sparkling, I know, so she must have a plan. Maybe she’ll share it with me one day. Meanwhile, maybe I’ll just take off my glasses