Friday, February 4, 2011

In other news, I'm afraid of hair...and my blanket.

I'm long over due for a personal post.  So here's a rumination that came to me a few nights ago while I was trying to sleep.  It was late at night.  When all logic has left me.  Obviously.

Around fourth or fifth grade, I started to realize that I was unnerved by hair.  Irrationally, cringe-worthy unnerved by loose human hairs.  I am fine with it as long as it remained attached to someone's head.

Discovering someone else's long hair, whether on a desk, a hotel pillow, or in my cafeteria meal disturbs me beyond all reason.  Whenever I find myself in one of these circumstances, I get the chills and the urge to throw up shakes my frame.

In high school, one of my close friends had waist-length hair.  I didn't want to invite her over to my house, fearing after she left I would find one of her hairs in my room, more snakes than hair.

For the most part, this irrational fear isn't actually that bad.  Chances are good that if you met me on the street, I'd seem perfectly normal-ish.

But my fear has reared it's ugly, shedding, shaggy head and tousled its hair all over my life within the past few weeks.

Several years ago, I bought a beautiful, hand-made quilt on a trip to India.  While I loved it's colors, I'd never really used it on my own bed.  The first night after I bought it I discovered the drawback of a hand-made quilt:  a stranger's hair was sewn into the patchwork.  *Chills*

The quilter had long, loooooong, looooooOOOOOOOOooooooong hair.  If I were to sleep with the quilt, I would feel the stranger's hair touch my arm or leg.  *quivers*

So I set the blanket aside as a decoration.

But now, NOW, NOW!  It's ridiculously cold outside.  I needed another blanket for my bed.  So, I added the quilt back to my bed.  

Within the last two weeks, I've pulled three of the stranger's (or even worse many strangers') hair from my blanket.  I cannot express how much this upsets me.  Not only am I encountering a stranger's hair, but I am finding them in my bed.  *nervous breakdown*

I may be unnerved enough to pay to keep my house at 75 degrees every night, just so I'll be able to justify folding and storing the quilt far away from me and my bed.

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