Hubby’s line of work is screw machines, which means he works with oil.  I’m in the habit of checking each piece of laundry before I toss it into the washer, and pre-treating with Shout.  I should own stock in the company.  I’d be great for a commercial for them, because I swear by this stuff.  This morning I began my usual pre-wash examination and noticed something.  Every single shirt of mine had bird formula on it!  Every one!  I feed the kids at the kitchen counter and, yes, they sometimes make a mess.  OK, they always make a mess. Apparently I’m wearing part of that mess.

I remember years ago going to the store and realizing after I’d gotten back home that I not only had a feather stuck in my hair but bird poop on my shoulder.  Back then I think people might have actually noticed and wondered what was up with this crazy woman.  You’ve seen the pictures of the Walmart-ians?  I suspect even if I were covered in feathers I’d not get a second glance nowadays.

Time to start wearing an apron while handfeeding again.

Then there’s the dog hair.  You know Pig-Pen of Charlie Brown fame?  The way he just emanates dirt and dust as a cloud around him?  Spotticus is like this with hair.   It seems to shoot off him like the proverbial porcupine “shooting” quills.  There is no mercy for you if you are wearing black; you will be covered in white hairs in about two minutes.  I had thought a short-haired dog would be such a relief after having the poms, but he is actually much worse than the four of them put together were!  The vet assures me there is nothing to be done about it.  He’s just “a shedder” and that’s that.

Spotless clothes are over-rated.