The day before yesterday, there was hair all over the floor.

The rubber band that was holding the locks in a well-formed tail had snapped under it's own isometric power, at a spot where ther must have been a nick, a fault in the strength of the band. It spilled all over the shelf, down the wall, and to the floor.

I tried for several hours to assemble the tail again, with no success.

The remains of the long, silky memento of my youth finally ended up in the garbage. A small broom and the vacuum cleaner removed the rest of it from the floor and the kitchen counter where I failed to repair it. Some overlooked hair which had fallen onto the range burned and stank when I cooked lunch.