Suck Up Those Dust Hippos By David Leonhardt The sun was shining. The refrigerator was humming. The kids were stapling each other to
bathroom door. It was a typical, peaceful day around our house. Until I decided to vacuum.
"Make sure to vacuum under bed," my wife called out.
I stopped to consider this unexpected twist in plot. It would require bending down, maybe even crawling on all floors and hauling unrecognizables from very depths of Mordor. I had planned to just vacuum my usual cool racing stripe down middle of hall.
I decided not to accept mission. "I can't."
"Why in heavens not?" my wife demanded as she came into room.
"We have to protect ecosystem."
"The ecosystem?" my wife asked.
"A wetland is an essential component of ecosystem, serving as a repository for pollutants and a safety valve to prevent flooding from nearby rivers."
"What on earth does that have to do with vacuuming under bed?" my wife wanted to know.
"Just take a look. Under our bed is our household wetland."
"Nothing wet there. All I see is dust," my wife remarked with one of those here-we-go-again looks.
"Exactly. Dust as far as eye can see. Our bed serves a vital role in our household ecosystem by acting as a repository for surplus dust, thereby preventing it from recirculating onto counters, along baseboards and into our three-bean casserole."
I could tell by look on my wife's face that she finally understood. I had convinced her that we should not vacuum under bed. I prepared to magnanimously accept her apology.
"Just vacuum it up," she said.
Oh, no. Another unexpected twist in plot. I tried again. "There is nothing under bed but dust bunnies. You would not want me to suck up cute little bunnies, would you?
"Those are not bunnies," she replied.
"They're not?"
"No. Bunnies are small and cute. Those are big and ugly. They are dust hippos," she explained.
