I have a real problem with hair. Not the stuff on your head, just its peers - who, yes, did originate on your head - but can now be found free floating in the ether, attaching to whatever will have them and, generally, making a nuisance out of themselves.
I went into my bathroom the other day - which I share with roommates - and had to hold back my horror when I saw a short, curly red hair (the short, or severed hair, is sometimes worse than the long one) curled up around the base of my electric toothbrush.
I didn't know what to do. Should I grin and bear it, reach out and pluck the wettish, stubby hair away? Should I ignore it and just brush my teeth? I was stumped - and feeling slightly queasy. Finally, I decided to get some toilet paper (I did say on twitter that I'm the queen of the toilet paper buying, imagine eight rolls all in a neat row waiting to be called into action) and used that to wipe the springy hair away.
Then there was the long hair in the sink full of dishes (it was of indiscriminate color because it had been soaking in soapy dishwater) that got all intertwined with the dish sponge - it was almost sexual, the way it was wrapped around that green and yellow artificial sponge - and I was disgusted enough by it that I couldn't do the dishes until I had removed the sponge from the sink, taken it to the trash and untwined the lascivious hair like the soapy whore it was. Of course then the hair stuck to my hand - for some reason the idea that soap was involved made it ok to touch the hair with my bare skin - and it took a protracted battle, and the help of a can of tuna from the recycling bin, to finally put it down (as in euthanize it).
I know it sounds OCD, or worse, but I can't help how I feel about stray hair.
The worst, and final, hair story I will impart to you, makes the sink/dish stories seem benign - and what is even more horrible is the fact that it is not an isolated event.
I ate a hair.
It was in a peanut butter sandwich I was eating. I didn't know it was there until it was halfway down my gullet and when I noticed it, I knew I was screwed. I reached in and grabbed ahold of the bottom of the hair and started pulling. But the hair was all mixed in with the bread and peanut butter and would not budge, no matter how hard I pulled. I yanked and yanked and yanked and yanked and do you know what happened?
I gave my myself a damned throat paper cut with that hair.