Put down that Swifter

CNN reports today that rocky planets like Earth form when dust motes around a nascent star gather to form rocks. Rocks collide, and some stick and grow. A Haaavvhard planet-formation theorist compared the process to the common, household dust bunny, saying that after a million years, a dust bunny, like a planet, can get pretty big.

Praise Jesus. Now not only can I make grits and ham biscuits, I can make planets, too.

So last night I'm cleaning up around the house and in doing so did what I sometimes do when I clean, which is put any little scraps of paper I find lying around in my pocket.

Later walking to dog, hands in pockets, I thought maybe I'd come upon previously lost money. I grabbed the paper and held it up close to my face so I could see it in the dark.

Not a million dollars. Not even one dollar. But a million and one tiny, blue, dry cleaning tags.

Urgh. (where has all my pocket money gone?)

Truly, I hate the dry cleaner. I hate dropping the stuff off and I hate remembering to pick it up and I hate the stupid little ticket they give you and expect you to keep up with for three days.

And -- cleaned, pressed clothes aside -- if it comes from the dry cleaner, it's going to be hateful. Those wire hangers? Flimsy and unreliable. The icky, staticky cellophane they drape over my clothes? Curse to it and the space it takes up in my trash can. And these little blue tags, the ones that tell the dry cleaning lady that that blue sport coat belongs to us? Little demons of clutter.

If there are a million in my pocket, how many are there under the sofa?

To heck with 'em.

My only hope is that they find love in soft, dog hair heart of my dust bunnies and stick around long enough to create another planet (which will be suspiciously vacant of dry cleaners).