2017-08-06 - 5:53 p.m.
i hope i can do this
you take a soft cloth, lift each object from the top of the bureau, and brush away the accumulated dust. three flask-shaped vases that can't hold water. a pair of brass animals. a piece of fool's gold. a wooden box.
if you miss even a few days, the dust begins to mat up and form a thick felty layer. worse yet, it smells stale, like a stuffy waiting room where people used to be allowed to smoke. you start to feel trapped by your husband's knicknacks.
you are positive you never had dust like this in any previous home. you spend a ridiculous sum of money on a set of microfiber cloths, which do turn out to collect the dust in a highly satisfying way.
the days accumulate and the dust accretes. you can do something about the latter, but not the former. with his two new teeth, the baby looks so darling, like a little doll.
* * *
reading: jenny and the cat club.
listening to: "white snow in spring," performed by wu man on the pipa.
working on: knitting a sweater for my sister-in-law.
in the garden: i hope the vine in the front yard will make a pumpkin.