The Places Dust Lives

Today was my fifth day of moving all the belongings out of half of my house into the other half of my house in preparation for the floor refinishing. Tomorrow, bright and early the moving men come to move the furniture. In order to be ready for that to happen I had to move all the small stuff off every surface, all the pictures off the walls, every towel, shoe and arts and crafts items out of every closet.  
The worst part of the job was not the three hundred and forty two trips I made up and down stairs carrying arm loads of clothes or piles of umbrellas. The most disgusting job was the unhooking of the flat screen TV that lives in an antique linen press that it fits like a glove in. Despite the excellent cleaning that Blanca does at our house every week with a duster moving over every surface like a whirling dervish, when Russ and I carefully slid the TV out of it’s wooden case we were met with an inch of dust attached to the back of the machine.
The TV is not that old, but it never had been moved so that it could be cleaned behind it. Perhaps this floor refinishing will be there best thing that ever happened to our house. No surface will go unexposed and thus everything will eventually get cleaned. Well, that is after everything has been covered I a fine layer of dust from sanding all the old finish off the hard woods.  
I know that when this process is over I will block all the work out of my mind like a mother who has endured a grueling labor, but while I am in the middle of it I am swearing like a woman in the 20th hour of labor without an epidural. There is just no way out of doing all this grunt work. No one else could look at everything we own and decide if we should keep it or get rid of it. No one else could move it as carefully and know where it is in the interim in case I need to find my green keens, or red belt, and certainly no one else can put it all back after it is over and have any recollection of where it is. 
The one thing I know is that I am going to need to put things back in about the same places because they are in my long term memory that way. So the flash lights have to go back in the ironing closet and the sewing machine in the linen closet, even if they don’t make perfect sense to be there. Changing the home of all my belongings know will just mean I won’t know where aching is and then I might as well have just thrown it all away.
I just hope that when the movers come I don’t find too many more giant dust piles . There is only so much dust I can deal with before the great dust creation.