I have mixed feelings about my long hair. It’s now well over halfway down my back, closer to most of the way to my waist. It’s handy in one sense. I can always just put it into a ponytail, bun, or braid and it’s out of my face. But it’s also a lot of work to keep healthy, looking nice, and under control. Then there are the other peripheral issues of vacuuming and drains.

Vacuuming — oh gosh, what an endless bother. Long hairs wrap themselves around the brush of the vacuum in no time flat and have to be cut out on a regular basis. Irritating, but not particularly gross.

Drains are much worse. There’s something about wet hairs that grosses me out. I hate having to deal with my shed hairs in the shower. That’s why it’s Ian’s job to clean out the shower drain when it starts draining badly. He’s the strongest proponent of long hair in this household, as well as the largest beneficiary, so he deals with the dirtiest repercussions thereof.

I mention this because over the last few months, our shower drain has slowly transitioned from “drain” to “plug.” Given enough time, yes, the tub would eventually empty. But we finished each shower with water up to our ankles. I didn’t need to close the drain to take a bath. It was getting bad. Our usual gentle chemical methods (baking soda and vinegar, with a heavy weight atop the drain to keep the reaction heading in the right direction) availed nothing, and some mechanical intervention (a bent coathanger) didn’t help. Thus, while I was out riding up hills today, Ian borrowed snake from his grandparents and Dealt With The Drain.

I wasn’t there to witness it, but Ian assures me this was an entire ponytail’s-worth of hair (clearly hyperbole, since I still have all my hair). He said he was astonished any water made it through at all. I took a bath after my hilly ride and I can at least confirm that the tub does now drain as intended. So hyperbole or not, I have to give Ian credit for doing his husbandly duties with the drain.

Click below the fold for a report on today’s bike ride.