A Brief History of Lint
You saw the title of the blog was “A Brief History of Lint” and you decided to read it? Is there a title that could possibly dissuade you from deciding to read it? If so, I can’t imagine what it could be. You saw “A Brief History of Lint” and decided that you had to read it. I don’t want to jump to conclusions but maybe it’s time to re-examine your free time?
As I’ve gotten older I’ve started to have more trouble with collecting lint in my navel. Not a big problem I realize but curious nonetheless. I guess in the last 10 years my stomach has added a little girth and thus the sides of my belly button have grown steeper and therefore have been more prone to catch the fluff and fibers it is no doubt coming in contact with. Sort of a tiny linen fuzz black hole.
I’ll admit it. Some years ago I started collecting it. I put a small jar by my bedside and every night I stick a finger into my navel and every night I am rewarded with a small ball of lint. What I found shocking was the uniform nature of my belly lint. My belly button gathers, like a pitcher plant, almost the identical amount of lint each day and by far the most dominant color is blue.
So what was the ‘trouble’ I mentioned earlier? The trouble is that as my stomach loses it flat youthful appearance the lint has been growing. Now I understand if I wear a new shirt or sweater that is bursting with loose threads and particles of cloth… I’m going to get a big ball of lint. I’m fine with that. In fact, not only do I expect it but I actually look forward to stripping it off at the end of the day and reaping the small fluffy reward.
But what about the days where I wear an old t-short that has been through the washer 100 times? I spend a non-active day sitting around doing next to nothing. The day ends and I go to bed. I carefully peel off my shirt and what do I find?
The same ball of lint sitting in my navel.
Where does that come from?
Do really fat people harvest fist-fulls of lint every day? Do they need lint traps like some sort of lumbering dryer?
Is that my destiny?
If you’ve ever seen a mouse’s nest then you know what the jar next to my bed looks like. I could make a tiny little pillow out of the contents.
Perhaps my calling it a tiny black hole might be on to something. We all know that there is matter and anti-matter in the universe and that many scientists use to think that there was a ‘counter Earth’ in another part of the universe where a ‘counter me’ might be wearing a giant new fleece sweater and the lint is moving back and forth between the worlds via our belly buttons. Nobody really knows where the belly button goes anyway do they?
Or maybe the black holes in space that are swallowing entire galaxies actually then spit out that matter in the form of lint in trillions of belly buttons throughout the universe.
All I know is that my old t-shirt did not produce that much clingy fiber and I don’t care how big my belly gets, it can’t be reaching out under my shirt and grabbing shit when I’m not looking.
I could always start doing sit-ups and thereby lower the lip of my navel and as a consequence catch and hold less lint. I know.
But I sort of like thinking that I’m connected to the bigger universe through my belly button. Sometimes when my stomach is a little upset or noisy I prefer to think of stars imploding billions of light years away and swirling inside me. Perhaps the jar of lint next to my bed actually holds the answer to all our future energy needs.
Next time you pull out fluff from your belly button just try and tell me that you don’t think for 1 second that it could be star-stuff channeling through you and that you don’t like that explanation better.
And then think about why you were so bored that you actually read a blog called “A Brief History of Lint”. You deserved this stupidity.