Just remembered when my high school changed the dress code to forbid “non-human-colored hair,” and this girl showed up with neon-pink braids the next day, and when they tried to send her home her mom said “I’m her colorist and I am in fact human.”
Re-reading Wuthering Heights is a great reminder that 150 years ago, if you, say, sprained an ankle at a neighbor’s house, you just lived there for five weeks until it healed.