Holy Roller!

I shouldn't admit this in a public forum, but here it is: I devote approximately ten minutes per day, every day, to lint-rolling my bed. 

That's 70 minutes a week. 280 minutes a month. 3,360 minutes — that's 56 hours —per year. Fifty six hours that I spend hunched over my comforter, questioning my love for animals as I peel yet another spent sheet off the lint roller. Friends, that is more than an entire workweek at a full time job. 

(And if you're wondering, yes I did have to use a calculator for all this ... and then I Googled "how many hours is 3360 minutes?" YOU'RE NOT HERE TO MARVEL AT MY MATH SKILLS, OK?)

If you've been here for a while, or know me IRL, you know I'm a pet person — and you've been introduced to a lot of our animals in the 17 years (!!) that this blog has been in existence. Some of them are still around: namely our cats Nessa, whose first appearance here was way back in 2013 (I mean technically it was just a picture of her butthole, but it counts); Nick, who made his first appearance way back in 2014; and Zoomer, who joined the family in 2016. 

Sadly, we lost our chocolate lab, Josie, and our foundling pug, Destiny (aka Puggy), a couple of years ago, both to old age. 

But because I'm a total sucker compassionate person, we've taken in more pains in my ass furry friends. There are our two pugs, Maisie and Millie (because once you've owned a pug there's no going back, apparently); there's Silas, who was a feral kitten born under our neighbors' shed; and Rupert, a Siamese — Curtis found him in his boss's driveway as a kitten, starving and sick and near death, yelling with the last of his strength for someone to rescue him. 

(They all make regular appearances on my Instagram and TikTok, in case you wanna get to know them.)

Anywho. All this is to say that if you're keeping track, seven animals is ... a lot. And ironically, I spend a disproportionate amount of my time making my house look and smell like we don't have seven animals (see: 56 hours per year on lint rolling my bed alone). Most of the time, it works — I wish I had a nickel for every time that someone who's visited is surprised to learn that we even have one cat, let alone five. But it takes a lot of effort on my part.

And a lot. A lot. Of freaking lint rollers.

This may be an exaggeration, but only slightly.

If you haven't bought stock in lint rollers, I suggest you do — because I feel like business is probably booming due to my excessive use of their product. I buy them in multi-packs, y'all. If you think I'm exaggerating, here is an actual photo — not AI-generated — of the pile of lint roller sheets I used for my bed this morning.

  

I wish I was joking.

The ridiculous part is, the majority of my animals don't even get ON my bed: you'd never catch Zoomer, Nessa, or Rupert resting there, and Silas only occasionally naps at the foot. The three main culprits are the dogs (Maisie and Millie), and Nick, who sheds enough daily to produce a whole new cat. I can't even imagine what hairy hell I'd be living in if they all decided to lounge there. I'd probably just give up and start selling blankets knitted from the cast-off fur.

Haha, totally kidding ... y'all know I'm not crafty.

In the (overly-optimistic) spirit of not being wasteful, I bought one of these:

It does work — very well, actually — and if you are a normal person with only the standard amount of pet hair to remove, I highly recommend it (here's my Amazon link ... and it's on sale today, just FYI!). But I have a ridiculous problem with it, and it's this: I've got so many surfaces from which to remove hair that it literally makes my arm tired. 

I know. I told you it was ridiculous. But I envision myself going around with one muscular Popeye arm from the strenuous hair removal workout it gets on the daily, and, well, I'd rather not.

So I'll keep using enough lint roller sheets to wallpaper my bathroom and spending my fifty-six hours a year trying to wrangle the errant pet fur into submission. 

... At least if I tell someone I can't hang out because I'm lint-rolling, it's a legitimate excuse.