So there was recently much remodeling in my house. I've talked about it, I'm happy with it, all is well. And I was not unaware that remodeling brings dust. I've been swatting at things with a dust towel as they become necessary, but I haven't made a concerted effort to really clean until now.

Oh. My. God. The DUST!

I was pretty blase about the dust situation -- I've got Swiffer sheets and Pledge Grab-It mitts. I'm prepared. How bad can it be?

So far the tally is three full Swiffer sheets and two Pledge mitts, front and back. And I haven't even made a dent.

I started with the kitchen. Basically, everything that wasn't in a cabinet is Dust Central. Tragically, I don't have much cabinet space. Much of my cooking gear -- cookie sheets, mixing bowls, cheese graters, vegetable drainers, cookie cutters, rolling pins, cooling racks, hand mixers, pitchers, serving bowls, the list goes on -- were on these great wire shelves I bought from Mary when she moved back to Jersey. I got them for a ridiculously low price, and almost felt a little guilty about it as I schlepped them away from Mary's apartment. Don't worry, Mary, I'm paying for them now.

So as it stands, I need to dust, then wash, pretty much everything in my kitchen. Then I have to dust again, to catch all the dust that was in the air when I was dusting. Then a last dusting to catch the post-dust dust. And this is one room. I'm doomed.

Did I mention that this house has a lot of vintage charm? I thought that was a good thing. What it means, however, is there is not one smooth surface or right angle in my entire dwelling. The walls are textured or stuccoed, perfect for shredding Swiffers. The molding and baseboards are intricately carved and notched. The floorboards are uneven and have small gaps between them -- not something you'd even notice if they hadn't suddenly become white with drywall dust.

And I have stuff, people. I have books. I have pictures. I have knick-knacks. I have a puppet from Indonesian; decorative bird and cricket cages from Hong Kong; gargoyles from Notre Dame; fuzzy wombats and echidnas from Australia; a wooden lizard from Mexico; baskets and servingware from the Philippines; my kick-ass hat from Mongolia; the teacups and wine glasses and Swedish glass bird from my grandmother's house; a wind-up penguin; desk toys; cat toys; computer stuff; cds; and more more more. I never realized I had so much god-forsaken stuff. And I have to dust it all. Right now. Jesus.

Surely there has to be a way around this, right? A miracle cure? Some handy-dandy product that will painlessly suck all the dust into a neat little (ok, huge) package I can lob into the dumpster? Hello? Anyone?

I'm doomed.