Bad Hair Days

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less with baldness. ~Marcus Tullius Cicero

Hair has become a BIG issue in our house lately.

The main culprits: three long-haired ladies and two thickly-coated dogs.

“Old McDonald had a house, E-I-E-I-O…
And in his house he had three ladies, E-I-E-I-O…
And a hair hair here, hair hair there, hair here, hair there, hair hair everywhere,
Old McDonald had a house, E-I-E-I-O…”

There is hair on the floor, on the sofas, in the sink, on the tables, on our clothes, in our food (ahem… sorry, my negligence)…

The annoying hair is annoyingly adding to my annoyance.

My remedy is to try to vacuum as often as possible, which is quite impossible, possibly due to my impossibly laziness.

And so a clever I cleverly think of a clever idea.

First I try to dispose of all that looks like my own hair. Then, I proceed to rant and rave on the kids on their hair being everywhere. So, the kids have to pick up their hair from the floor or sink every once in a while to make the areas a little hairless.

“Old McDonald had a house, E-I-E-I-O…
And in his house he had two dogs, E-I-E-I-O…
And a hair hair here, hair hair there, hair here, hair there, hair hair everywhere,
Old McDonald had a house, E-I-E-I-O…”

One dog is Kristel. The other is Kay-la, who is temporary staying over while her diva Mama is posted overseas.

There is hair on the floor, on the sofas, in the sink, on the tables, on our clothes, in our nose (and I don’t mean those that GROW there)…

I tried ranting and raving to the two bitches on their hair being everywhere. They simply tilted their heads, stared intently into my eyes and wagged their tails fervently at me. They must have been excited since it’s seldom I speak that many words to them.

I had no choice but to yank out my vacuum cleaner and vacuum the whole house, only to find the floor being littered with hair once again within the next five minutes.

It’s at such moments I miss my husband, who’s out of town. He is one who can’t stand untidiness and ensue to lug out the vacuum cleaner and pail and mop to clean the house, amidst curses and swears.

“Old McDonald had a house, E-I-E-I-O…
And in his house he had my husband, E-I-E-I-O…
And NO hair hair here, NO hair hair there, NO hair here, NO hair there, NO hair everywhere,
Old McDonald had a house, E-I-E-I-O…”

Oh well, I’ll vacuum and mop the floor tomorrow, perhaps…

Wonder if the Yellow Birds have been building a nest on my mop again? They won’t have any chance anymore once my husband returns.