I’m dust


I wrote a piece about Op-Eds this morning. An Op-Ed about Op-Eds. But then, I decided not to post it here this evening.  Yeah, it’s dust.

That is the way of the Polly Brain.

I am an over-thinker. And a bit of a people-pleaser. I don’t want to hack anyone off.  I worry, sometimes excessively, about what others think of me.

So tonight, I’m just going to lay low. It has been a long day of sucking wood dust out of our home. It feels like I have dusted all day, and everything is still coated with wood dust from our recent floor refinishing. It is just thick. Everywhere I look.

A carpenter must have been here. I saw dust.

Saw dust.

Okay, okay. The polyurethane vapors are still ever present. I am still in the grasp of the brain blurbs.

So until tomorrow, I think I shall wallow in the grime.

And one more thing. Does anyone know what a Thane might be?

I just keep hearing,

Polly, You’re a Thane.
Polly, You’re a Thane.


“Pulvis et umbra sumus. (We are but dust and shadow.)”
― Horace, The Odes of Horace


“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.”
― Pablo Picasso


“…weariness seemed to settle on him like a coating of dust.”
― Maria V. Snyder, Magic Study