Dad was a woodworker. Not just a carpenter, but a skilled craftsman who made fine furniture, including church furniture.
He was self-taught, and pursued his craft on a tight budget. But he had some industrial size and quality tools.
He had a room in his shop where he had a large belt sander. This sander had a belt that was probably twenty feet or more long, and he would place the wood on a sliding table, and push down on the belt with a pusher block that he had made.
Sanding results in a very fine wood dust. He did have a dust collecting system but the dust would still be there. After an extended time in the sanding room he would emerge, covered with sweat and fine dust. And the hairs in his ears would be highlighted by the fine coating of sanding dust that had accumulated there.
My brothers and I would roll on the floor with laughter. How could anyone have hair growing out of their ears like that?
Well, Karma and genetics have settled the score. I have a small hair trimmer. I am sure that if I didn’t use it I could have a flowing ear mustache that goes at least to my shoulders.
And I get hairs growing out of other strange places. At least I don’t have hairs growing out of my eyes like this bee-mimicking fly, Ersitalis dimidiatus. That would be weird.