Infested

There’san old Mitch Hedburg joke about how you never hear of any good infestations.“My apartment is infested with koala bears. It’s the cutest infestation ever.Much better than cockroaches. I turn the lights on and a bunch of koala bearsscatter. I'm like, come back! I want to hold one of you, and feed you a leaf.”

It’strue that “infestation” is never associated with anything positive, and assomeone in the midst of a flea infestation, I’m more than willing to vouch forthis.

Aflea infestation is terrible. By itself, it’s just awful. I mean, there arefleas everywhere – do I really need to elaborate on why this is horrendous?And, almost as bad as the fleas is the accompaniment to every infestation – thejudging.

Noone wants to believe that you get to the level of flea infestation without somegross misconduct. Whether it’s a messy kitchen or karmic-retribution for priorbad acts, people want to believe a flea infestation doesn’t just happen out ofthe blue.

Forthose of you wondering, I am a good housekeeper. My house is neat and orderly,and I am in love with my sanitizing steam mop. I am also a good pet owner(despite what happened during Cat Watch 2010, but we’ll get to that tomorrow).My dog does not have fleas -- it’s just my house, and I have devoted myself totheir eradication:

1. Vacuumedthe entire house and burned the contents of the vacuum cleaner afterwards.
2. Fleabombed my house. Twice.
3. Fleabombed my car and vacuumed it afterwards.
4. Burnedthe cat’s bed. (I felt like I was in some required school reading about ScarletFever epidemics in the 18^th century, but I did it anyways.)
5. Hadthe exterminator out. Twice.
6. Takenthe flea bomb the exterminator left me, set it off and thrown it under thehouse grenade-style in an effort to take out the possible offenders.
7. Foggedthe inside of my house, for the fifth time, with the prescription-strength bugkiller left behind by the exterminator.

Ispend more time talking to my exterminator than I do speaking to some membersof my own family, I might be barren because of how many pesticides I haveencountered in the last two weeks and I haven’t had access to all of my clothesin what seems like a mini-eternity. (Oh, short-sleeved cardigans, how I missyou.) But all of this is to no avail.

Thereare still fleas. Fleas that like to bite me. For awhile, I was going to bed apinkish hue from all of the calomine lotion on my body. I don’t know what theyfeed on (other than me, occasionally). I don’t know where they’re coming from –all of the animals are at the SO’s house. And despite what anyone tells you,rosemary is not a flea-deterring plant because it is the only thing I’m capableof growing, and it flourishes right near the back door/main flea point ofattack.

Iam so tired, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to enjoy the inside of my houseagain – if ever. Please send positive thoughts into the universe for me. Andvery, very bad thoughts about fleas.