Will It Matter When I'm Dead?
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And how about FLEAS?

8/26/2011

2 Comments

 
No, fleas will NOT matter when I'm dead.

I wonder if I will matter to the fleas when they are dead. At any rate, I  hate fleas. We have been waging war on the delightful jumping creatures since we returned from vacation. The vet says we probably have one more week of this. Anyone who has battled fleas knows how exhausting and uncomfortable it is. Uncomfortable because every time a piece of lint or a stray hair touches your skin, you think it's a flea out to get you. Every time you have an itch and you can't find the reason, you assume it is a flea and then begin obsessively checking any animal that is even remotely near you.  And so you cover your beautiful couch of only a year old with white, polka-dotted sheets. to avoid fleas falling between the cushions and starting a crazy breeding party in your furniture.
Picture
At least the sheets are cute, I guess.
Or...maybe that's just me.

Having fleas is exhausting because it requires laundering everything you own upon the initial outbreak. And by everything, I simply mean all the things the animals that have fleas have been around. And in our house, that means...everything. Luckily, I didn't have to wash much in the way of clothing, but I had to wash every towel, every dog and cat bed, every blanket and sheet, and other random items throughout the house.
Picture
Peeps fleain' up some of the laundry.
But laundering is not my main complaint. It's vacuuming. Of course, giving Slim a pill for the fleas wasn't exactly a happy event. In fact, I still have scratches down my arm from that.  Anyway, I HATE vacuuming. Hate it. And anyone who knows about fleas knows that vacuuming is crucial to getting rid of them. I cannot express how much I hate vacuuming to you. But, vacuum I did--and have been. In fact, the first vacuuming event--I KID YOU NOT--took me three straight hours. Three. Hours. One should NEVER have to vacuum that long. I vacuumed so long that my hand and forearm were sore as all get out the next day. Flea-vacuuming isn't just vacuuming, in case you were wondering. It requires you vacuum everywhere. And by everywhere I mean behind the couch, under the couch, under all the couch cushions, in the corners of the floorboards...basically I vacuumed everywhere we have carpet.

And then we bombed. During the hours we waited outside of the house with the two dogs and two cats, we tore out all of the bushes and flowers and weeds (mostly weeds really) from the flower beds in the front yard. And by all, I mean ALL OF IT. We have a bald house now, but it looks a ton better than it did previous to our tear-out session. One day, we'll get it together. If anyone has extra bricks, we are accepting donations. We've been putting off fixing our curb appeal (of which we have much less than most of the houses in our little neighborhood), and so, FINE, I guess the fleas did us one good thing.  But that is all I grant them.
Picture
Our bald (but beautiful) house. If you look closely, you can see the animal horde crowded in the front door.
After the bomb was done fogging our house with hazardous chemicals and we were done destroying our front yard, we returned to the inside of the house to: (you guess).
    a. eat bon=bons
    b. watch tv
    c. knit
    d. vacuum
    e. prepare to go to the Bush's Beans Museum
As much as I wish we got to go back inside after an afternoon of  "fixing" our curb appeal and eat bon-bons and watch tv and knit and travel to Bush's Beans, we got to vacuum instead. Again.

At that point, the bomb point, we were a full week into flea-hell. And today, we are nearly two weeks into it. I am not seeing the boogers in the house, but they are certainly bothering my babies , and I am still finding new red bites on me every day. I would say that I think the vet is right, that the fleas are now on their way out because I am finding fewer on our furry brood every day, but that might jinx us.

Wait..

ANYWAY, now that I have jinxed us, I guess I'll bring this to a close to re-confirm my initial assumption that, no, fleas will not matter when I am dead.

Unless I get into trouble over the fact that husband and I throw small parties with  cake after we successful catch and drown the stupid bugs.
Picture
The reason for the infestation...all four of them are present (Peeps is creeping behind the dogs).
2 Comments
Rachele Alpine link
9/5/2011 12:35:00 pm

Okay, so I just saw this blog and I love that you're a dogmom! Even if you're a dogmom with fleas! I might call myself a dogmom too...love the word! :)

Reply
Marissa link
9/6/2011 04:47:32 am

Haha, you should totally use it, Rachele. I feel like it is definitely not the same as being a human mom, but it is comparable and not just something to be glazed over!

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