While I've been going from room to room, closet to closet, drawer to drawer, I've discovered so many items that have taken me on a journey down memory lane. Belongings of my maternal grandmother, my mother, hand-written recipes from my eldest sister - now deceased , toys and articles of clothing from my children's youngest days, wedding gifts from the day I and my SO tied the knot, and numerous possessions from whence or whom I do not know. As I've handled each object, a tiny memory jolt has loosened mental pictures from years past and, at times, entire events have tumbled forth with cinematic clarity. How fascinating that the physical act of touching an object stirs up a simultaneous mental image.
With any major household project comes dust, lint, dust-bunnies and larger clumps of floor fuzz and my abode is no different. I've gone through countless Pledge Dust-It cloths as I have wiped off each surface I've come in contact with. I don't even want to consider how many sneezes have occurred as a result of my cleaning and organization project. The number of Dust-It cloths is second only to the number of facial tissues I have wadded up and thrown away. The vacuum sweeper has also received an olympic-sized workout and must be wondering what it did wrong to receive such unusual abuse.
What I realize, now, is that I have cerebral dust that needs removing as well. There is lint gathering in my brain. I, of course, cannot see this lint but I am aware of it as it makes its presence known in a variety of ways throughout the course of the day. The quintessential questions that arise multiple times in the course of a twenty-four hour period: "Now why did I come into this room?", "Where did I put that?", or my favorites, "I was going to do something.....what was it?" and "I was going to tell you something......what was it?"
I am looking for the magic potion that will reduce brain dust - an abracadabra, if you will, for restoring clean closets, drawers and shelves in my head. I cannot use my vacuum sweeper......heaven forbid I would suck out any remaining useful brain chips that are left. Nay, this remedy must be of a kinder, gentler nature, perhaps like the lint roller that sits on a shelf in my office. A device that I could softly roll over my scalp and remove brain dust like metal flakes drawn to a magnet. Maybe a port could be installed whereby, when the dust level reached 'high', all I would have to do is bend over and the dust could fall out, only to be blown away in the November winds.
Soon, I realize, I may appear quite odd with an electronic 'P' on my forehead and a hole in the center of my head. Next I need to work on body contouring. What contraption can I conjure up for this project?
Ancora imparo
