Showing posts with label hair;. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hair;. Show all posts

Saturday, September 15, 2012

losing it




Somewhere, right now as I type, an engineer is modifying the design of a washing machine to ensure socks are - more efficiently than ever - separated from the rest of the wash and teleported to another time and place. [More sophisticated washing machines also incorporate a magnetic device for extracting pieces of wire from ladies’ support garments.]

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There is a reason that Australians refer to cell phones as ‘mobile’ phones; we can never find them. They relocate themselves with a level of deviousness keys have never been able to achieve.
Most of the calls we make from our kitchen phone here in Franger are made for the sole purpose of trying to locate mobiles.

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Is the nail file problem as common as the odd sock problem? At least 4 times a year I go to a reject shop and buy two or three little travel kits with nail scissors, clippers and files. In the middle of the night, some cheapskate who collects, scraps and recycles metal for a pittance a pound, sneaks in and disappears them. He’s been doing it so frequently and for so long that even the dogs don’t take any notice of his comings and goings.

But nothing – not the odd socks, the manicure doo-hickeys or even mobile problem can compete with the ‘hair’ problem.

Loose, fallen hair is one of those things that I just find gaggingly, skin-crawlingly repulsive.
Like cockroaches.

No, worse than cockroaches.

Public washbasins can be positively werewolfish because of all the feminine preening that goes on. Why do women lose their hair in washbasins then insist on leaving it there for others to find?
It’s as disgusting as rancid dischcloths.

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Our little home is occupied by two delightful schnauzers – dogs of a breed that does not shed hair. They have a shampoo, cut and blowdry far more frequently than I ever have.
No pooncy, skirty type grooming, just practical, US Marine style haircuts for dogs that spend a lot of time running, chasing rabbits, and sniffing everywhere in all weather. Well, okay, we keep the eyebrows and beards, but please note the eyebrows and beards are white.

The Other and Aunty both have quite short hair, the colour/ colours are blondish. My hair is collar length but also blonde [ahem, the real deal], but extremely fine.


How is it, then, that every time I start wiping down the stove or other white goods, the super-wipe cloth seems to produce long, thick, dark hairs that cling to freshly wiped surfaces? [Long, thick, dark hairs mind – no evidence of white schnauzer brows, short bimbo-blonde, or even a hint of perineal fallout.]
While cleaning, I can throw out a ‘hairy’ cloth and within two minutes the new one is similarly hirsute.

It’s must be another conspiracy of the washing machine design kind. Built in consumerism. Somewhere, right now as I type, some engineer is searching for better and more cost-effective ways to hide hair in these cloths – hair of the “instant hair, just add water” variety.

We go through lots of paper towelling.