Dusty

Yesterday I woke up, and after going through my e-mail checking, fantasy sports roster updates, and blog reads, I promptly went to work on a 10 hour cleaning binge. I spent most of my time in the same room, and I swear you wouldn't know that it had been cleaned, with the exception maybe of the fishtank...which I've decided needs more than just goldfish in it again. A couple south american silver sharks and a plecostamus or two (I'm a big fan of ugly fish).

Of course that much cleaning leads you to finding an assortment of junk you thought you'd lost, or thrown out already, but found its way back to its niche in the corner of a wall unit. In the process of switching the positions of our boxes full of photos and my stack of vinyls, I came across a number of pictures that must have been pulled out of their original film developer store envelopes for all those poster projects you do as a kid, and never returned.

I actually still have some pretty clear memories of my first day of school, for instance pulling the emergency fire exit handle on the bus cause I thought it was a power window lever. Perhaps that stays in my memory cause of the trauma of the loud buzzer and the bus driver stopping the bus on a dime to check things out. I think the bus driver's name was Pam. She lasted until Grade 1, then the bus route changed, and did so every 2 years after that.

But gone are the days where I was so eager to run off to school in the morning, or the days where I got a fresh knit sweater from my mom for the first day of each schoolyear. Replaced instead with a less naive, more decrepit version of myself, with a tendancy of having breathing difficulties after inhaling dust for 10 hours, and only getting 3 hours of sleep because of it.