Invisible Dust


You may find this hard to believe, but it is absolutely true. I have invisible dust at my house. I know it is invisible because no one can see it except me. The furniture can have enough of the stuff to rival a hazardous waste dump, but my family continues in their daily activities, simply ignoring it as if it was not there. Surely, if they could see what I see, someone would say, “I think it’s time to clean,” and run full speed for the feather duster.

I don’t know why it is that I am the only one that can see the dust. Perhaps I have supersonic vision, like Superman. Perhaps they think I can leap over a dirt pile in a single bound. All I know is that I seem to be the only one who ever cleans house.

Strangely, this special ability to see the invisible includes not only the dust on the furniture, but also the fingerprints on mirrors and glass doors. I should work for the FBI. It is amazing how I can see those smudges and prints, but no one else knows they are there. Fingerprints at my house could overwhelm the national criminal data base and still no one would mention that it might be time to clean.

Kitchen floors are the same. No one can see the footprints, black marks, or the mud that has been tracked in. I know I have missed my calling. With my amazing ability to see invisible footprints, I should have been a scout for the military or a guide for big game hunters. It is truly amazing how I can see tracks on the floor while everyone else just walks right over them.

Even my carpets are polluted with the incredible invisible dust. I can see the dust bunnies and foozles holding wild parties under the living room coffee table. But the other members of the family are entirely oblivious to the fact that we are being terrorized by filth. Never in a million years would someone actually volunteer to run the sweeper.

I don’t know what it might take to get others in my home see that housework must be done. The bathroom could be oozing green slime and no one would acknowledge it. They might grudgingly agree to help if I pitch a big enough tantrum. But they do not have a clue what it is they are cleaning as it is entirely invisible to their eyes.

You name it and I am the only one in my house that can see it. The list includes greasy appliances, sticky countertops, dust explosions, landfills, tar pits, horse manure, or anything else on the planet that might requires any effort whatsoever to clean up.

When I finally explode, the family is amazed. “If you need help, all you have to do is ask!” they say, flipping channels with the remote control. Ask? Of course, how could I possibly forget; they cannot see the problem. Only I am capable of seeing dust with my supersonic, high-power, infrared, Technicolor vision. No one can possibly volunteer to clean what they don’t even know is there.

It is sad but true. I am cursed with the uncanny ability to see invisible dust. Only I am capable of cleaning without instructions or being asked.  Only I know when it is time to get out the dust mop, disinfectant, household cleaners, and other weapons of mass pollution destruction. Only I will not ignore it and pretend it isn’t there.

One day, I may stop seeing dust too. One of these days I may stop my war on dust long enough to let the invisible dust settle — not that it would do any good. It could block out the sun and destroy the ozone layer, but it could never become dusty enough for my family to clean without prompting unless it obscures the screen of the TV set.

Copyright 2009 Sheila Moss


About Sheila Moss

My stories are about daily life and the funny things that happen to all of us. My columns have been published in numerous newspapers, magazines, anthologies, and websites.
This entry was posted in Environment, Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Invisible Dust

  1. I can relate. Though my vision isn’t the best for farther distances, I have the amazing ability to catch it when the smallest detail is out of place or unkempt. Don’t get me started with my dog-like hearing. 😀


Leave a comment and make my day.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s