On New Year's Day...
I'd like to start the year with an inane post.
We have a flea infestation. For some reaon, kiki isn't responding to flea treatment (which is damn annoying considering it's top of the line and $90 a pop). We conclude that it's time to flea bomb our room. The owner of the house says "NO way, we must wait until it gets cooler." Okay, possibly the most retarded thing I've ever heard. In the meantime, rory has open flea wounds all over his feet (I think they like him 'cause he's hairy - thus far I haven't been bitten.)BUT we wait. Then today, when it's what, 45 C? The owner of the house comes into the room and says "maybe you should flea bomb today." Brilliant, brilliant. Let's bomb the room on New Year's Day, sit outside and wait, when it's 45 fucking degrees, develop a few melanomas while we're waiting, then head back in. So we actually do it, 'cause the gashes on Rory's feet are starting to shit him. When we get back, the owner of the house then kindly suggests that I vacuum. Not just our room, but the entire house. So I'm in my swimmers vacuuming like crazy and sweating like a bitch. The vacuum, understandably, overheats. I am then queried - did I break it? What did I do to the vacuum cleaner? Why isn't it working? Did I do the rest of the house?
Now I'm sitting in our (hopefully) flea-less room, and the fan is churning hot air into my face.
On another note, I need a new job. Any suggestions?
We have a flea infestation. For some reaon, kiki isn't responding to flea treatment (which is damn annoying considering it's top of the line and $90 a pop). We conclude that it's time to flea bomb our room. The owner of the house says "NO way, we must wait until it gets cooler." Okay, possibly the most retarded thing I've ever heard. In the meantime, rory has open flea wounds all over his feet (I think they like him 'cause he's hairy - thus far I haven't been bitten.)BUT we wait. Then today, when it's what, 45 C? The owner of the house comes into the room and says "maybe you should flea bomb today." Brilliant, brilliant. Let's bomb the room on New Year's Day, sit outside and wait, when it's 45 fucking degrees, develop a few melanomas while we're waiting, then head back in. So we actually do it, 'cause the gashes on Rory's feet are starting to shit him. When we get back, the owner of the house then kindly suggests that I vacuum. Not just our room, but the entire house. So I'm in my swimmers vacuuming like crazy and sweating like a bitch. The vacuum, understandably, overheats. I am then queried - did I break it? What did I do to the vacuum cleaner? Why isn't it working? Did I do the rest of the house?
Now I'm sitting in our (hopefully) flea-less room, and the fan is churning hot air into my face.
On another note, I need a new job. Any suggestions?