Cats -- and evidence thereof -- is EVERYWHERE

I own two cats -- or rather, two cats who rule our lives live with us -- and they basically pwn our apartment. We are just lucky that they don't like getting on the kitchen counter or eating human food, or quite frankly, I just don't know that we'd be able to keep the human-cat power balance, well, balanced.
And yet, as much as I love the furry little buggers and everything about them (except their dooks -- those are nasty), I am really starting to resent their HAIR.
It gets everywhere.
Clothes fresh from the drier have cat hairs on them.
When I wake up in the morning, I have cat hair in my hair ... and sometimes in my nose.
White, fluffy, lighter-than-air dander floats around my car, a car the cats have never been in.

I have black clothes I can't wear, so sullen are they with cat hair.

And yet ...
When they purr their affection with a sidle at my ankles, when they cozy up to me when I get home from work, when they nap on my chest when we're chilling in the living room, I know that I love them beyond all reason, in spite of the tufts they'll leave in their wake when they have their CatTacks later.
Tufts I call my White Badge of Affection.