Those Frolicking Easter Dust Bunnies

Now that St. Valentine's Day has sprinted out the door after winning all of our hearts and minds, the next two big days lie just over the horizon: St. Patrick's Day and Easter. But since I no longer drink beer, and particularly not any pea-green beer, I will skip directly to Easter. Now there's a holiday. Ol' Jack Rabbit does his best to fill all those Easter baskets to overflowing.

Of course, now that I am over 50, my mind usually busies itself with much more mundane issues, such as planning to clean my apartment, and then letting another week go by without tackling that frightening task. So, now that a number of weeks (which I politely refuse to specify here) have gone by without prompting me to pull out the vacuum cleaner, the more inaccessible corners of my apartment are steadily turning into breeding grounds for families of very nimble, hard-to-catch tiny dust bunnies. When I swat my hand at them, they prove as evasive as butterflies and as relentless as bottle-flies. They have now been there so long that they are gradually turning from dirty-brown gray to more appealing colors that match some of my towels, T shirts, and bedtime blankets.

They are all taking on such a personality of their own that I hate to condemn them to a slaughterhouse in the deep caverns of my vacuum cleaner. So I think I will wait until after Easter. By then, some of them will have blown away as I start opening my apartment window to allow some fresh spring air in. Perhaps the bunnies will grasp that as an opportunity to escape and live another year. That will leave my conscience must more at ease. I can then collect the dust bunny eggs they left behind, and I will save my list of pet dust bunny names for next year.