Bugging Out

I am annoyed…and my eyes are burning. I have become convinced that the bug man decided to take out his anger on me by over-spraying my house with flea poison. Here’s what happened….

We have used the same pest control company for the past 8 years. They come every spring and spray the shit out of the house and yard so that we don’t have an infestation of fleas. This was very important for 2 reasons – the first is that I do not like to be bitten by a hundred small bugs while sitting on my couch. The other is that Samantha the Wonder Dog had a bad flea allergy and if she got bit by even one flea, she would spend countless hours chewing all the fur off her ass and hind legs. It made for a disgusting sound, smell and sight.

Since Sam was still alive this spring and since I still don’t like to be bitten by little bugs in my own house, I called the same Pest Control company. Let’s call them Company X to make this sound like something really important.

Company X came out with their giant trucks and 2 men who stormed the backyard as if it were a war zone. They doused everything in a liquid substance. (I have to insert here that I have never even asked them what they are spraying all over my yard.) And then they came inside with aerosol cans of some equally mysterious substance. And as expected, nary a flea was seen and by the time I put Sam down a month later, she had most of the hair on her little body. Sure, she was blind and deaf and seemed to be teetering between this world and the next, but by golly, she was not flea infested.

Then, a few weeks ago, I was lying in bed and looked down at my hand and there was a flea. Frankly, I think I would have preferred seeing a masked intruder holding a machete. At least with the second scenario, my death would be quick and seeing one masked intruder does not mean there are 4,000 more in the house determined to procreate enough to take over the world.

After ripping all the covers off the bed and kicking Kenny the Boston Terrier to the couch, I decided to call Company X in the morning and have them come back to spray again. I figured this reinfestation was due to the crazy cat lady moving out across the street and leaving her 50 cats to roam the street. OK, let me confess here that I had no intention of calling Company X. For this level of confrontation, I needed to bring in the big guns – my husband.

Mike called Company X the next morning and they came out armed with little aerosol cans. They sprayed the house all over. Still, a few days later, I was still seeing fleas on Kenny. Once again, Mike called Company X and this morning the man came with big truck of liquid Flea Death and turned our backyard into a sea of poison. But, when Mike asked him to come inside to spray, he said he did not have the inside stuff.

I am not sure why, but I went bonkers. I called Company X myself and babbled and spurted my frustration. After a call between the bug man and Company X, he came inside armed with a small sprayer filled with the backyard liquid death and proceeded to spray it all over my house. He dropped that crap all over my floors, my son’s teddy bear, every where. I stood there, my jaw on the floor, while my husband asked, “This isn’t going to stain the floors is it?”

The floors? Well, I hope they aren’t messed up when everyone comes to our house for OUR FUNERALS.

And now, I am sitting here, wondering if the bug man, who insisted that it was harmless (I think the fleas would beg to differ,) decided to take out his 30 years of frustration working for Company X on me and my family. Perhaps he decided this is the day he snaps and gets rid of the aggravating flea bag house that seems to breed fleas?

I really want to write something meaningful and stirring each week in my blog, but some days, all I can muster is anger towards Company X and questions about my future on this planet. I think it is because I have mild brain damage from the torrent of bug spray in my living room.