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I have a secret power. Well, more of a freak accident of nature really, but that doesn’t sound as good. The hair on my abdomen, just over my solar plexus, is patterned in a strange whorl. My own personal crop circle, if you will. Now this is possibly fairly normal, but it has a peculair trait – it generates lint. No, no I’m not joking. Nor have I gone mad, I just don’t have much of interest to say, and I thought this worth sharing

I had a habit for a while of smoothing the front of my shirt with my hand – it was some unconscious reaction to something or other, but I continually discovered this small lump in the aforementioned area. I had assumed it was a particular tshirt that had “balled” inside (you know – like polar fleece clothes sometimes do when you wash them or they get old…) but I kept forgetting to investigate it properly. I eventually noticed that it seemed to be happening with all of my tshirts, and determined to get to the bottom of the matter.

The next time I noticed this little faerie mound of tshirtness, I delved inside – thrusting my arm quickly down the neck of my shirt, doing it irreperable damage in the meantime, and seized the offending object. A lint ball. Now isn’t that odd, I thought. I disposed of the lint ball (I don’t recall exactly how, but probably through the age old method of turfing it over my shoulder – hey, it’s just lint) and continued about my business. Later that day I noticed the bump again. You can’t be serious, I mused and ferreted out another lint ball, from exactly the same location.

This went on a few times more and eventually in the privacy of my own house, I removed my shirt and peered blearily at my belly. Ultimately, although granted, it took me a while – I linked the mystical lint balls to the whorl pattern of hair on my stomach and finally had my answer.

There is always the possibility that these lint balls are merely the projection into our reality of some ultra-dimensional being, granted access to our existential realm through a portal generated by the pattern on my stomach. Or perhaps the lint is a side effect – a by-product if you will, of the intradimensional passage of a race of beings hereto unknown.

Then again, perhaps it’s just lint. Regardless, I wanted to collect it and see how long it took to fill a jar (which seemed like a perfectly normal pursuit to me) but I have been informed that if I embark upon such a mission I may be forcibly seperated from parts of my anatomy to which I am rather attached. Sigh.

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