You’ve just finished cleaning, and chaos is already creeping back.
You’ve done it all. The floor is sparkling, the couch cushions are fluffed, and for a brief moment, it feels like you have the dog hair under control. The sun streams through the window, and you think, “This is how I want it.”
Then you hear paws.
Your dog comes bounding in, happy as ever, tail wagging like a feather duster. At first, you smile—until you see it. Hair floats in the sunlight, like tiny feathers caught in a storm. It lands everywhere: on the floor, the couch, the chair cushions, even in the air you breathe.
You try to ignore it. It’s summer, and you want to enjoy it. But the moment you get in the car for an outing, the seats are covered again. Later, while having coffee on the terrace, the garden chairs look the same—hairy, dusty, as if there’s an extra pet you weren’t expecting.
And there you are again—with the vacuum, the lint roller, and the frustration that it never ends.
