When the dust settles on any object in the house, Aunt Jemima loses it, literally. She hollers and yells until her maid, Lena come in and wipes it clean. So yes, i live in a crispy Windex clean house. Try making some cereal- you can’t. The little crumbles at the bottom of the bag trickle out and onto the granite counters. Once again not okay. So maybe your all pondering when did this first start for Aunt Jemima. Well your in luck because she told me the story and it goes a little like this; (say with southern accent) 

“When i was at the yonder age of two i was rollin ‘round in my crib and a dust particle flew right into my mouth I started kickin’ and cryin’, momma didn’t give- well you know what and she told me to shut the hell up before she’d come in and beat me and that’s what she said, she did. So gaspin’ for air I slowly felt like a dyin’ baby and there ain’t nothin’ that could be done ‘bout that.” 

So yeah obviously Aunt Jemima is still alive but her fear for dust is mind boggling. She’s not even really my aunt- she’s my grandmother but that tittle makes her feel ancient so she tell me “ Girl you’d a better just call me Aunt Jemima I’m still up and walkin’ aren’t I.” And I’d say, “Yes Auntie Jemima I know.”