Nothing stays dust-free.

I remember once talking to a friend of my mom's; she told me that she started making her children wash their own laundry when they turned 12 or 13. Maybe it was 8. Either way, it was when they were young. But that's not the point.

She did this because she called laundry the "most thankless task" ever invented. She didn't want to do it, and it was bad enough she had to do her own, let alone everyone else's. So, the moment they were old enough to handle the task without wrecking things, they started taking their own wash to the modern river, washboard in hand.

This is how I feel about dusting. It is a thankless task, and I'd really rather not do it. True, no matter how much you clean, you will always end up, sooner than you may think possible, back doing the exact same thing again. But dusting is different; the moment you finish, new dust has already settled. The dice are stacked against you.

So tonight, while attacking the living room, contemplating the dust and the ever-grosser dusting cloth, I thought of practicing scales back when I took guitar lessons twenty-something years ago. My, how time flies. Of course, the scales didn't fly with me. Ah no, I left those behind in my guitar teacher's basement room. Scales were thankless tasks, and they bored me.

Has this affected my songwriting? Most likely. See, the musical structure is important to me, but I really feel like lyrics are where the action is. I take great pride in them in my song crafting. Had I practiced my guitar more often and with more intensity, I would likely play I great deal better than I do now, but would my lyrics have suffered? Who knows. Maybe.

I'll take things the way they are. My fingers still don't want to play those damned scales. Or dust that end table ever again.