I had a little time off from school, so I made a beeline for my other desk—the one where I make collage artwork. I hadn’t visited it since January, when I made some valentines for my Etsy site. Our household was in dire need of new thank-you cards, and I was more than happy to do something that did not involve a computer.
I noticed that everything on my desk had a fine layer of dust on it. I opened a drawer and found that everything in it had a fine layer of dust as well. I laughed—even down in the basement, where we hardly go, there is dust!
Living in the country means living with dust. I knew that from being in the Columbia River Gorge. In Get Your Pitchfork On!, I talk about the cloud of dust that careened toward our house every time our neighbors went up or down their driveway. It’s compounded on this, the “dry” side of the state.
During our first warm spell, the people from whom we’re renting this house sent us a note explaining where to install the air-conditioner unit, which is in storage next to the furnace. “It helps keep the dust down,” they said.
Mike and I are not fans (pun intended) of air conditioners. We will open all the windows, except those facing the road, and just keep wiping it off. I do worry about our electronic devices, but what is the point of summer weather if you can’t have fresh air?