This weekend was a whirlwind of laundry. Load after load, wash-dry-fold. That could be the chorus to a country song. You see, I tend to be a pack rat. An unorganized one at that. My bedroom usually becomes the area where everything just gets dumped. No one is ever in there, besides my husband and I of course, so I felt no need to tidy it up
much ever. I hadn’t realized just how bad it had become until….wait, wait, wait! First, I need to give just a little back story here in case you didn’t read “Itchy”.
My husband and I have had animals off and on for most of our relationship. Mostly it was dogs, but occasionally there was a cat or two involved. We’ve never EVER had a problem with fleas. NEVER. One here or there does not bother me because that is something that just comes with having an indoor/outdoor pet. Up until about 4 months ago, we only had a dog. He’s a great dog. Goes outside does his business, frolics in the grass, comes inside, sleeps in the floor in our bedroom, generally well behaved. No problems. Me being a lover of most all animals, the opportunity presented itself for us to get a cute little free kitten. I jumped at the chance. We haven’t had a cat since my childhood
cat friend of about 13 years was sadly hit by a car several years back. My husband was less than thrilled when I insisted she sleep in a cozy little basket in our room, just like the dog. So now to the current story at hand….
I hadn’t realized just how bad it had become until… I noticed a gazillion fleas on my ankles one night on the way to bed. OK, so it wasn’t a gazillion exactly, but it was enough that I panicked! OH MY GAWD! They have silently invaded! We are doomed! Def con 5, Def con 5! I immediately said, “That damn cat gave us fleas!!” It was the only excuse I could come up with. We’d never had fleas of this magnitude before we brought her home. She is a little flea incubator. And let me tell you folks, flea powder isn’t worth a crap and neither is a flea collar. Both of which we tried to use to no avail. Finally, I bought some of those “drops” that goes on their backs. It is supposed to kill the eggs and larvae for 30 days. We’ll just see about that.
I bet most people thought it was Labor Day weekend, didn’t ya? No, for me is was Bomb the Shit Out of Your Bedroom weekend. I had absolutely no idea just how many articles of clothing were laying in, on, and around my bedroom floor. However bad this situation may have seemed, it turned out to be a good thing. I was able to get every tiny bit of laundry done. I was also able to go through all those clothes and take out what wasn’t wearable or was outgrown. My mom had a yard sale a couple of months ago and she was fairly successful in getting rid of her unwanted stuff. She suggested that we have another yard sale this coming weekend so I immediately said, “Yes, lets.” I must mention though that I am not thrilled to be having a “yard sale”. I hate yard sales, but if it means I might make enough money to fill up my gas tank one time and I can get rid of all of this junk, yay for me.
Oh yeah, we kicked those fleas asses.