Tabling the Motion to Commence Studies

The word of the day is atelier (noun): a workshop, a studio.

This immediately made me think of my disgusting desk.  I have a desk in the sun room of my house which, when I moved in, I envisioned as the labor room for some excellent legal writing.  I even have a few of my grandfather's legal degrees to hang above the desk.

Fast forward to three and a half years later, the desk is covered in skyscrapers of paper and dust.  Lots of dust.  Having this New Years Eve party made me finally make my house into a place that a human might live, which included cleaning off the desk.  It was more like demolition, really, and aggravated the hell out of my allergies.  It ain't gonna be on the cover of the Container Store catalog anytime soon, but it looks like a desk now and there are some bulldozed surfaces that I might actually used.  It looks pretty good.

So I promptly sat down to to do some reading today.  For some reason, still at my dining room table.

A legal mind's atelier
Never used, to my dismay.
When accomplishing all of the studying that I was able
I still pull up a chair to the dining room table.

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.