Sunday, March 26, 2006


If Purim is my very favorite holiday, then Pesach is my very least favorite. I hate it.
Why should I clean? Why should anyone? Is there any work more Sisyphean than dusting? Dust is cosmic. Dust is the stuff of the formation of galaxies. Dust is more sublime than we can fathom. From dust we are and to dust we shall return. Anyone who thinks that they can rid their miniscule homes of dust doesn't have the first notion of the greatness and vastness of creation.
Dust, if you ponder the subject with the depth it deserves, is as Pesachdik as it gets. What is the desert, after all, if not a huge dust heap? Isn't that what we are supposed to be celebrating - our liberation from Egypt into 40 years of wandering aimlessly in the desert? Dust is very near and dear to me. Ever since that incarnation during which I wandered through the desert for forty years, I simply cannot but be surrounded by it. It was amidst the dust that I received the Torah. I am deeply sentimental about it.
Besides, I find the accumulation of dust on my shelves very convenient. F'rinstance, when someone phones (as is wont to happen once a month or so on the average), I can jot the person's name and number down right there on a handy, nearby shelf. No need to say: "Just a minute. I'll find a piece of paper and a pen" and then make the poor schmo wait 1/4 hour 'til I find them buried under the dust.
Dust makes me feel good. I never miss an opportunity to ROFL.
I always thought that Pigpen was the true star of the cartoon and found that nauseatingly sweet and insipid Charlie Brownnose nothing but annoying.
I also dearly want a cat, but because I have guinea pigs I have to wait until they die. In the meantime, the dust balls that are forming in my house are my ersatz cats. They look just like those pricey Rag Doll cats. How would you feel if someone swept your cat away and dumped him?
The mites are my companions and in the depths of depressive despair it is to them that I turn for comfort and solace. They advise me wisely and well.
To our Xian brethren I say: Console yourself that all you have to worry about is going into hock to the tune of your yearly income for Xmas. At least your dusty world is not shaken and uprooted.
In our next episode: Doreen laments having to eat matzah and horseradish.

Doreen Ellen Bell-Dotan, Tzfat, Israel