December 1997
s m u g
compulsion
by leslie harpold

Without the Pain of Shaving

*

It could be worse. In the great pet lottery, I could have chosen Persian cats, or Chow Chows or some other foul long haired shedding beast, but no, I chose cats. Rather, they chose me. One, a homeless creature which had no home, was under-nourished and sick under a car in a lot in Brooklyn several years ago. Another infant, separated from her mother, peeping under my apartment window in Michigan even longer ago. What matters at this point is that I have furry creatures, which is great: they extend your lifespan, make decent company when you're moody and settle my desire for a large dog until I get a bigger place.

They shed a lot, and I wear a lot of black. This is not a winning combination socially. Now, I'm lint conscious, like a good girl, so I used to go through rolls and rolls of masking tape trying to clean myself off before heading out to important social functions where cat hair as an accessory couldn't be passed off as a fashion risk. It's a Glamour "Don't" plain and simple.

A couple of years ago though, I got turned on to a highly consumable good Helmac Lint Rollers. They've been around for years, but they're generally sold in the section of stores with the shoe polish and boot black, and I like to leave the care of my footwear to the pros. So, when my friend whipped out a roller on a handle and started whisking her own pet's hair away, I was shocked and amazed.

Twelve minutes later, I bought a roller and two refills, I knew I was in love.

I love them as much as I love the smell of Pledge which I'm telling you is a huge leap of love. I do not love them as much as I love say, the Smug readers like you, but I love how simple and ingenious the whole concept is. Huge wide tape, rolled backwards on a spindle. Brilliant, and I wish I'd thought of it.

De-linting is something I do a couple of times a day at the very least. Not that I get that much hair or that much lint, but it gives me a minute to stop, reflect, make sure I'm not forgetting anything, and take a deep breath before I blast out my door at break-neck speed to do whatever it is that I do. I feel more confident that I didn't miss some spot on my butt, or the back of my shoulder because the handle improves my reach by about four inches.

So - the Helmac Lint Pick-Up - it's a very good thing. I keep one above my door on the outside (shh, don't tell my neighbors) to get rid of that last little brush the cat makes against my leg as I depart. It's a little compulsive, but hey, that's why this column is called - well, I certainly don't have to explain that to you.

*

leslie@smug.com

in the junk drawer:

November 1997
October 1997
September 1997
August 1997
July 1997
June 1997
May 1997
April 1997
March 1997
February 1997

featurecar
net
worth
chair
bumping
uglies
gun
smoking
jacket
barcode
ear
candy
pie
feed
hollywood
lock
target
audience
scissors
three
dollar
bill
dice
compulsionvise
posedowncheese
the
biswick
files
toothbrush
mystery
date
wheelbarrow
and such
and such
hat
blabfan
kissing
booth
martini









     
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