Monday, November 22, 2010

Of Course You Realize This Means War...

I write you from my bed where I’m spending all my time these days. Not because I’m sick (although I was – I got the flu! I never get the flu!) or hurt (actually there’s this whole thing about my toe… I’ll write that post soon, I promise!). I’m at war, my friends. AT WAR!

You know I’ve got kitties, and I love them kitties ever so. But kitties who go outside sometimes bring friends back in with them. Little, bitey friends who are not actually friends but instead terrible creatures which, if there were any justice in the world, would burst into flames the second they came into being! Some people also call them “fleas”. Kitties pretty much always have these flea friends, and normally I’m fine with the occasional bitey visitor. The price of kitty haveness. But there’s a limit, people. Oh there is very definitely a limit.

For me, this limit is when I wake up with 18 bites on my own personal body. LIMIT!

I’m not sure when the tide turned – when I blinked just long enough for the enemy to get a foothold in the house. One day the flea comb was suddenly covered! Suddenly I’d look down and find a black thing jumping on my lap! And the bites. THE BITES! The itchy, red, bumpy, itchy BITES! I can only guess that my chemical warfare just plain failed one month, and now we’re hunkered down in the house with many flanks of attack. We’ve implemented a strict vacuuming regimen. Renewed the chemical attacks. Things have been scattered into carpets, and every flat ‘walk on’ surface got a hot, friendly bleach washing.

Now I’m moving to high tech attack. I was going to basically take off and nuke them from outer space (aka THE FLEA BOMB) but frankly I hate to do those things. Despite all the “totally safe! Non toxic! Seriously, you could let your kid play with us! SMILEY FACE AND HEARTS, Y’ALL!” claims I still spend the next week feeling like I’m walking through death and everything tastes of poison and death and there’s just a lot of death. (don’t get me wrong – I’m in favor of flea death. But this is more just general, all-purpose death) Anyway, I went online to google “seriously, how much general death is there in a flea bomb?” and discovered an exciting sci fi option: FLEA TRAP.

FLEA TRAP! This is something on Amazon that many, many people have tried and raved about. It’s got many appealing aspects, such as: reusable (as opposed to flea bombs which, like real bombs, are pretty much toast once you set them off), inexpensive, non-toxic, non-gassy… And HIGH TECH! Wheee! So this is my solution for the FINAL, EPIC BATTLE! My super-weapon of ultimate killness is winging it’s way to me right now. Then I will set it up and watch the wave after wave of flea death. And will I laugh? Will I laugh as I watch them all die?

Oh yes. I will laugh.

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