Yesterday was a weird day. It began with an incident with the vacuum cleaner. I had summoned up the energy to vacuum, sweep and mop the whole house and somehow Roan was content to play by herself long enough to let me accomplish it, so I got out the trusty vacuum cleaner. I was suctioning away when Arwen came in and asked "What's that burning smell?" "I was planning to ignore that," I replied. Giving me a look of admonishment, Arwen turned over the vacuum cleaner to find its rotating brush had become completely paralyzed by gobs and gobs of my hair wound round and round it.
Have I mentioned that I am so over my long hair? It is time for this mop to GO. Apparently it's normal for tons and tons of hair starts to fall out of your head about 3 months after you have a baby. Every time I take a shower it looks like there's a gerbil in the drain. The drifts of hair around the house have begun to rival Sasha's ubiquitous tumbleweeds. Not to mention Roan thinks it's real fun to yank on it now. I have a appointment set next week to chop it all off. I am counting down the days.
Anyway, Arwen's discovery with the vacuum led me to have to unscrew the bottom of the machine and spend the next half hour cutting and yanking a ton of dust-encrusted hair off the brush. Disgusting. Once free to spin again, I got back after it with the vacuuming.
I thought to myself It's been a while since I managed to vacuum, and who knows when I'll get the next chance. Better make the most of it. I hooked up the attachments so I could vacuum under the bed. I was down on all fours, halfway under the bed reaching for all the hidden dustbunnies when the unthinkable happened. I didn't even realize what was transpiring at first, and then it hit me. The vacuum had sucked most of my hair up into it. I couldn't actually look at the vacuum cleaner though, because it was attached to the back of my head. That must really have been a sight. Me flailing around from half under the bed, blindly groping for the off switch.
I finally found it, turned it off, and extricated myself from the contraption. That only served to underscore: This hair has got to go!