Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Black Iron Lung

I have always known that the air quality surrounding the Los Angeles area may fall just short of being healthy for me to breathe, however I decided that the best way to deal with this problem is to ignore all the signs posted in every building in the city about how the air will cause you to grow two heads and never be able to reproduce a healthy human child and just to breath the air like everyone else ignoring the sharp painful jabs in my lungs until it became just another part of everyday life. This went on fine for a while, except that I kept running out of breath sometimes, and I vaguely remember what fresh country air smells like. My husband has been pushing for an air filter system and after trying to rationally explain why we needed it, irrationally explain, threats of physical violence, throwing objects at my head, shouting at the top of his lungs, and collapsing into a heaving pile of worry I finally gave in and allowed him to spend money on a stupid filter for the house. I am still saying that it would have been better to get more shoes.

After having had the filter in the house for a couple of months it suddenly struck me that there is less dusting in the house, that I am sleeping better, that the quality of the air in our house could actually be better because of this new system. Mr. Rogue was ecstatic to drag me over to the filter and show me the proof of the magic of the filter. The corrugated pores of the once wavy white material were now waves of black sludge. This crap on the filter was the stuff that I had been breathing in my own home.

My first impulse was to pull my lungs out of my throat and see if they were as black and damaged as that air filter. My lungs who I had thought would still be pristinely white because of the fact that I have never smoked. Little did I know that moving to LA would be equal to the equivalent of smoking a pack of cigarettes from the age of 12 to the ripe old age of 99? Mr. Rogue wanted to throw the filter away and replace it with a new shiny pristine version of its tarnished self. I decided to save it; maybe this was me attempting to show that some good could come from this blackness. I decided to nurture this black sludge, with soothing Kenny G and loving attention. My hope is that this will encourage the black sludge to spread, which will then turn into some type of small lumps, which will then congeal into larger lumps that will turn into a humungous monsters. Because I am sure a black sludge monster will rival the pet rock and make a wonderful pet.

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