|"Do you ever just wish you could stand on the porch in some high-wasted pants and be left alone?"|
I haven't been very honest with you these past few weeks.
Sure, I made it sound like a barrel of laughs around here. Raining ceilings, rotten plumbing, making sure there were decorative hand towels in the bathroom for strangers, how could you not think we'd been permanently anchored in the lap of luxury? But, silently, a battle was being waged, a battle so disturbing, I couldn't even write about it. Are you ready for this week's tale of terror?
Are you ready for me to recount it with stills from Halloween because that's the most recent horror movie I watched?
True, I love The Birds as well, but Tippi Hedren doesn't apply distinctly to this situation, and for that, I'm grateful.
It began on a dark and stormy night....
Actually, it was a really early morning because the baby thinks 5am is an acceptable time to start living. He's trying to kill me. He also needs toast. Be right back.
Now then, unsuspecting, I'd started the coffee, plopped down on the couch, and prepared myself for an hour of the Wiggles, when I felt the first bite.
|"Did anyone feel that? No? Probably just those gosh dern hallucinations again."|
|"What is it? Someone sedate me. Sedate me, now."|
Slowly, they began to cover the area, biting, pinching, threatening to swallow us into some sort of no man's land of welts and staged decor. Like always, I stayed calm while I called Husband. "Hey, babe. How's it going?"
"We're all gonna die."
"What do you mean?"
I whacked three dots off my arm. "There's a veritable sea of death trying to eat me and the children. Just called to tell you goodbye and also that I left you three pairs of clean underwear in the top of the closet."
"Hmm, sounds like the dog left us fleas. Hello? Hey, are you there? Paige?"
"Sorry, I got distracted by being eaten alive. Please call back later."
The scale of the problem? I wasn't quite sure, but I suddenly had flashbacks about the good people at Frontline expounding on the importance of putting flea collars on your pet in a timely manor. Fools, all of us. Slowly I moved through the house, throwing open doors, kicking over furniture, and, most importantly, staying cool and collected.
Maybe they were just downstairs. Perhaps they hadn't infiltrated the upstairs. Surely there couldn't be so many they'd be in every crack and crevice and....
From the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I dropped to the floor of my room to get a better look.
I dropped to the floor of the twin's room.
I dropped to the floor of the baby's room.
Every, square inch undulated with the fear I'd been hoping was just another trophy in my collection of paranoia.
|"Not my babies."|
Doc had woken up with strange bites all over him and now I knew why. Infestation. Why had we named the dog Flea? Why had we tempted fate in such an egregious way? Everywhere I turned, black dots hopped off everything, the nagging feeling of being bitten every five point five seconds threatening to drive me insane just in time for Halloween. At least I wouldn't need a costume.
How would we sell the house?
How did one get rid of a full-scale invasion?
Had one just made it's way into the waistband of my shorts? Ouch. Yes, it had.
I stood in the middle of the living room, being bitten and weeping softly. One thing was for sure...
|"Three cases of beer, please."|
Is there enough liquor in the world?
Will Paige go on an eradication spree so fierce she'll have to change her last name to Killerman?
Tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion....
Until Next Time, Readers!