|Just another day on the ranch.|
A Note From the Staff: When I left you yesterday, the Kellermans were being eaten alive. Please feel free to revisit those horrifying details here. Today's exciting (depending on who you ask) conclusion will be told in stills from various teen horror films. Mainly because the early 2000's happened and also because it's Halloween.
Things had reached astronomically bad proportions. The night before, I'd also found insects in our bed.
Where we sleep.
The next morning, I rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom, determined we'd never sell the house and that, somewhere along the line, I must've wandered drunkenly into a mirror shop and burned it to the ground. I sat down and stared blankly.
Suddenly, something bit me. Oh no they didn't. Please Lord, no.
|"Why are you in my pooping space?"|
I quickly got to work researching how to get rid of a house filled with bugs:
Wash everything you own every day.
Clean the house every day.
Spray the house every day.
Burn house to the ground.
Husband, having exited stage left for work, called to check in. "How's the situation today?"
|"They said I have to wash the sheets every day."|
Husband was quiet for a minute, proceeding carefully, before he answered. "I think you should bomb the house and take the kids out for the day."
I choked back tears. "Wait, what does that mean?"
"Well, you'll have to take everyone to the hardware store, buy a few cases of insecticide, put them in every room, strap the kids in the car, go back in, set everything off, run back out, keep the kids busy for two hours somewhere else, come back, open all the windows to air it out, leave for another hour, come back, and everything should be fine.
I was a woman on the edge. Sure, that plan sounded about as solid as jello, but, desperate times. The baby was covered in bites. Fleas poured from every crack and crevice. We had a showing at five. Earlier, I'd wandered into the laundry room and my legs had been covered with insects who didn't care if I made it to the fabric softener or not. I put the plan into action.
Three hours later...
|"Hello, fleas? How'd the irradiation go?"|
"They're in the kids hair. They. Are. In. The. Children's. Hair."
Something had gone terribly wrong with operation "Bomb all the things." I pushed back tears as I combed through Doc's curls and realized there was a whole colony of disgusting insects taking up residence on his scalp. Oh, and on the other children too.
No one would ever invite us anywhere. "The Kellermans? No, sweetie. Light that birthday invitation on fire. Their kids have fleas."
Husband tried to talk me down. "It'll be ok. I promise."
"It'll be ok after I regulate."
"What does that mean?"
"I have to go."
My plan was simple; Wash everything, sweep twice a day, mop twice a day, vacuum twice a day, and, after 8pm, drink until I couldn't form thoughts anymore. This was a great plan, right up until....
"And that main drain will be six thousand dollars and no water for a week."
At which point, I had a talk with God, and I was rational as always.
|"What do you want from me? Huh?"|
By the end of last week, I looked like this.
The good news is I kept up the insane cleaning, found a magic combination chemicals that may or may not cause hallucinations, and I destroyed every, last flea. I'm feeling a little more like this.
But we still have to sell this house. Sweet saints in Heaven, please sell this house.
Happy Halloween, Readers!
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