Picking Your Battles

I hate hair. Ok, I don’t hate all hair… I am still diggin’ these dark locks upon my head. It’s when they don’t stay there that has become a problem. My roommate, LJ, hates hair on the bathroom floor. When one has long, nearly black hair it will stand out on a white tile bathroom floor like a neon “cocktail” sign, glowing in the night. I am pretty good about getting whatever I see picked up, but at times I may miss some. This is such an ongoing issue with my menopausal (read: crazy at times) roommate.

It’s not like LJ doesn’t have some serious hair herself. Ranging in colors from blond to dark brown, she has a lot of hair to go around… however she is convinced that she doesn’t lose any. Seriously convinced that it is all me, regardless of the shades of yellow strands that might linger on the bathroom floor. But I don’t fuss over it… it’s hair, I pick it up, throw it away, and don’t think about it.

If anything was to bother me, it would be the weekly clogging of the drain, because LJ doesn’t like to use the strainer that is placed in our tub, created to gather all lose hair… I suppose since “she doesn’t lose hair” it wouldn’t be necessary… but when I am up blurry eyed and trying to figure out why the shower won’t drain at 5am 6am when I wake up late daily for work and I have to dig soggy hair out of the drain, it bugs. I have mentioned it once… but I generally just put it in the waste basket and move on with my day. It’s not worth getting completely bent out of shape, it’s hair.

So as this is (seemingly) a fairly equal thing, I was surprised last week when I got out of bed, rushed once again to hop in the shower and I looked at my sink in the bathroom (we each have our own sinks, and “sides” to the bathroom) and saw that my roommate had taken her time the evening before to sweep the entire bathroom floor, and took all of the contents of the dust pan, including dirt and hair, and had dumped it in my sink. Hello passive-aggressive.

I confronted her that night, where she reiterated to me that she doesn’t lose hair. A few days later, just after she rushed out of the house, I went into the bathroom and saw her hair covering the floor. I will tell you it took great restraint to not repay her the favor of leaving her hair in her sink. Almost everything I had really… but alas I picked it up and threw it in the garbage can… sometimes being the better (read: more sane) person has enough satisfaction in itself.

You would think that I would have a weird hair thing too, as I hate hair on my body, less on my head and whatever whatever down there. Not that I have ever been a hairy person, what little hair I do have on my body is blond, and I can go three days or more without shaving my legs and wear a skirt and nobody is the wiser, you really can’t see it… but I try and keep my legs shaved as well as my arms (I don’t know why as you can’t see a difference, but I like the softness of it when all of the hair is gone).

However with all of the tweezing and shaving I do… the only place I get waxed anymore is my nose. I actually love having my nose hair waxed out. It doesn’t hurt like you would think and it feels so nice after. Yes, I do realize I pointed out to you that I feel the inside of my nose, but let’s face it, if you ever spent time with me you would know I do this.

I can’t stop touching my nose… when I can feel hair in there it drives me crazy and like some child pressing on a bruise to feel the pain, I continue to touch the hair in my nose allowing it to bother me, until I get it all waxed out. Once it is waxed out, it’s so nice and smooth I can’t keep the tip of my finger out from admiring… sad, but true. I say this today because it is bothering me (read: can’t stop touching it) and I can’t stop thinking about when I will be able to get it waxed next.

So don’t you fret if you see this OCG about town today with her finger gingerly placed in her nostril, I am not picking, oh no, I am merely petting and thinking of smoother times.

I think we have officially crossed the “getting to know you line”…