It's mice or a cat in this house. Cats eat their own food and go to the bathroom in their own latrine, whereas mice eat my food and go to the bathroom in my food, making the choice obvious. It's just that there's hair. Everywhere. Always. We clean, we really do, and often, but still. Hair. At least it's not hanta virus mouse hair.
Then there are dogs. I only have two rules, no dogs in the house, no dogs on the furniture. But my rules are basically pirate code so they're more actual guidelines. Or not even. So, more hair.
Then there's my own hair, of which there is an abundance. And Lefty's hair, that's now long and very cool looking. Except when it's clogging the shower drain and the lint screen, or statically clinging to the furniture and clean laundry. Pixie's hair is also long and very cool looking, and also in places of inconvenience.
Foreign nations are invading foreign nations, and there's fear and speculation as to how our own may or may not become involved or affected, and I pray for Ukraine as I scroll through news and social media on my phone, picking hairs off the screen and brushing mine out of my eyes so I can read it. I dust the furs off the radio while I listen to news updates, and lint roll the couches while I watch TV broadcasts.
And now I have two orphaned goats in the house, because there's not enough variety of hairs floating around the living room.
Zelensky is defending his nation, Jeremy Renner is playing him in a movie, and I'm picking hair off my clothes.
