You know the only drawback to living in a house full of morbid remains and similar artwork and movie posters etc? Then you have to dust all that stuff. I’m sneezing right now ’cause I had the day off (sort of ) and decided to clean the movie room. Someday I might want to have friends over, after all and everything has (had) like an inch (not literally) of dust on it. I hear my G’ma’s voice again in my head about my housekeeping and I’m remembering that poem about Agatha Morley.
My writing collects dust, too. All of my printed pieces that have been critqued are in different baskets and boxes and on various surfaces. My “In Our Tribe” is collecting metaphorical dust ’cause I haven’t touched it in days. Maybe I should be doing that instead of arm wrestling dust bunnies and losing. =]