When I was in primary school, a series of unfortunate events for my family resulted in us having to move into a rented house for a period. My mother is one of the fussiest people imaginable when it comes to cleanliness, I am quite sure she suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder [and she still does].
On the day we moved into the rented house, she made us four girls and my father literally clean the building from top to bottom before we could unpack a single thing. My family are all blonde and have limited body hair so, other than the odd strand of long blonde hair in the bath, you never saw hair anywhere in our house.
My mother cleaned the bathroom herself, not trusting any of us girls to sufficiently remove any lurking germs. My father was not allowed to clean the bathroom either as my mother firmly believes that men can only see a germ once they reach the proportions of a medium sized dog.
Her moans of disgust floated down the passage and we all gathered in the doorway to determine the cause. From the bath and basin plugs, my mother was pulling thick clumps of long dark hair. There was also hair in the shower stall and clumps of the sticky strands lodged in the shower drain. My mother made short work of removing the offending hairs, wearing a pair of yellow plastic cleaning gloves and armed with a strong smelling drain cleaning fluid.
My sisters and I talked about that hair for weeks afterwards. We agreed the people who had occupied the house before us must have been very hairy. As our knowledge of the world was fairly limited at that time, we thought it very likely that Mr and Mrs Twit from Roald Dahl’s The Twits, had been the previous tenants of the house.
This was written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday. You can join in here: https://lindaghill.com/2018/12/14/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-dec-15-18/