That's right. They suck. I am so flippin' sick of treating this house for fleas and so sick of imagining I'm itching, that I want to kick some flea ass. Today, I spent HOURS doing 6 loads of laundry (literally), vacuuming every single solitary crack in our hardwood floors downstairs (my back is killing me from bending over), vacuuming all carpets (again), vacuuming all furniture (again), spraying all surfaces (again), using my Little Green Machine on all of the furniture downstairs, and wet mopping the entire first floor. Seriously. I'm done. So flippin' done.
And now tonight, Steve discovered more upstairs. So I just spent an HOUR sprinkling Borax all over the carpets and mattresses and I'll vacuum it up in the morning. Steve's sleeping on the couch (because he's grossed out about the thought of them in the bed), and I'm going to sleep with both girls in Grace's bed (To protect them from the vicious fleas?... I dunno. Just play along, will ya?)
I have about 8 billion more loads of laundry to do tomorrow (and am seriously contemplating just putting all dirty laundry directly into the trash to save myself the work) and more Borax sprinkling and vacuuming to do.
Let's throw in that I really should take Salinger to the vet tomorrow (because I think something other than the fleas is wrong with him) AND the fact that I have a pretty big deadline for Friday and the work I have to do is going to take a loooooong time. Since I'll be spending my days pretending to be an exterminator, I guess I'll be performing my "real job" at night. ALL fucking night.
I swear to god, I am soooo done with pets. Done. Finished. The end. Between Salinger's 8 billion problems last year, the fact that I have to give him a flippin' laxative every damn day for the rest of his life, the mountains of cat hair that seem to appear overnight regardless of the amount of cleaning I do, the constant checking of the upstairs to make sure that I find any crap or urine puddles that one of them left there, and now the damn fleas, I have NEVER been so ready to be pet-free in my life. I don't wish they were dead or anything. And I'm not going to have them put to sleep for no reason. But I'd be lying if I said there won't be a little bit of relief in this household when they decide to meet their maker in the sky.
Of course, with my luck, they'll both live another 20 damn years...