I have a shaky but determined policy toward cleaning. I begrudgingly devote small pockets of time, throughout the week, to keeping disorder and dirt at bay. The results are a long way short of spotless. I can see how I could spend several hours a day tidying and polishing, but I refuse. The fact being that there is always something better to do. And I mean always.
From time to time, like now, the accumulated dust gets unbearable, and I am obliged to attack. Was it Quentin Crisp who famously said of dust, “After two years, it doesn’t get any worse!”? I admire his tenacious sloth. I am not about to put his claim to the test.
I’ve heard it said that most house dust is particles of human skin. “Unto dust we shall return.” Maybe so, but I’m not quite ready for that. I’m doing a little spring cleaning this morning, which in my house, means dusting on an industrial scale. Clouds and mountains of it.dust, Quentin Crisp, spring cleaning