Urban Tumbleweed

I spent a good part of this day cleaning dog hair out of my house. I am not exaggerating when I tell you the quantity of this hair was enough to cover two or three large-sized canine alopecia sufferers. It was truly repugnant on a level I can't even come to terms with myself.

Now I am no stranger to fuzz balls flying around. When I was a kid I used to produce what I called "fuzzies" which were made from the fuzz of my childhood blanket (go cowboys!) Being a multi-tasker at a young age, I would simultaneously suck my thumb and use my pinky finger to pull dark blue fuzzies off of the blanket. They would then be set free to blow around the house which made everyone but me think we had a roach infestation. I could tell the difference from ten feet away.

I am not making this up. If you don't believe me check out a picture of the threadbare section of the blanket above. (Yea, I still have it. So what?) Anyway even with my lurid past of fuzzie-making I can not take the dog hair anymore.

I am either going to start dust busting my dog directly or I am going to take inspiraton from Chris Rock's new movie Good Hair and figure out a way to make the furballs into a weave.

Furballs
Omnipresent. Disgusting.
Rolling, hiding, surviving.
Won't they go away?
Tumbleweed.