the battle for my sanity
last night as i laid on my bed, folding laundry, and talking to jon on the phone i felt something bite my thigh. instinctively and instantly i lifted up dress and took a swat at where the sting was coming from. after the deed was done, i lifted my hand to see exactly what had been feasting on my thigh, it was a flea and it was not dead, oh no-it jumped from my thigh and onto my bed. not wanting to tell jon that i might be sleeping with fleas, for obvious self-pride reasons, i tried to find the little bastard while still carrying on in conversation; but the little bastard wasn't alone, and, hiding my disgust could only last for so long.
as i lifted up pieces of laundry, relocated my pillows to my floor, and gazed with violation down at my covers i began to notice the little bastard wasn't living in solitude; that there was a frekkin flea fiesta in my bed; that all of his amigos and familia were hanging out right there with me. the mortification that followed was so intense that internalization and discreetness had become utterly impossible.
after a gallant attempt at alienating the enemy, i waved a white flag and jumped from my bed to my computer desk, shaking and disclothing as quickly as possible; crying out in horror and shock. jon acted as my informative, clueing me in to the 'ways of the flea'. he had seen some documentary (i love this about him-he's seen a documentary about almost everything and anything. he's like a really good looking version of ask jeeves.) about fleas and tolled me that they could live for years, going into dormancy for months at a time, fooling one that they had alleviated the pest. he also said that calling in a fumigator is seemingly pointless and so is giving patti's mangy mutes a flea dip because the fleas just aren't in the carpet or on the dogs anymore, there probably deep within furniture as well. to jon this was apparent because i have hard wood floors while the rest of the house is carpeted; plus, only once did sunshine come in my room and that was months ago when she got all freaked out because of a storm, and so for fleas to be in my bed only means the problem is just that advanced.
advanced or minute, there was no way in gods green earth that i was going to get back in my bed, let alone, sleep in it. after the conversation with jon, i gave my sister a call and set out in the middle of the night with only the clothes on my back to ross avenue.
before i got there, i decided to console myself with curly fries and the spicy chicken crispy sanwhich from jack n' the box. it indeed was comforting, so was sleeping, flea free, on belles couch. though not as comforting as declaring a full on war with the army of fleas in my bedroom would be later the next day.
i commenced the battle with stripping all bedding, including the bed skirt, and putting it in the washer. which it went through, thrice. then onto the laundry. then taking everything, and i mean everything, out of my room and sweeping the entire floor, not an inch left behind. this though meant moving my bed and that which had found residency underneath it. so of course, this lead me to finding new homes for all that shit, some of which, i found permanent accommodation for in the trash can. with the bed and furniture out of my way i decided to capitalize such an opportunity and pledge the wood paneling that goes around the bottom of the wall near the floor. this opened my eyes to the dire state of the window sills. and thus, the windows themselves. before i knew it, my room was bare. i had even pulled down my linen curtains for a ride in the washer. all said and done: i'm happy to report, i haven't seen one flea since i went ape with cleaning.
sure they might have only fled underground for a few months, but tonight, tonight i'll be sleeping with only the invited company: my sheets, my covers, my duval, my pillows, and a few erotic dreams.