What wanders off the carcass when it cools is fleas. I'm expecting frogs from the ceiling and a sink full of blood any day now.
We've lived here with our furry dogs for a year without getting fleas. We thought it was one of the best things about living in NY- they don't have fleas. Then, about a week or so ago, the poor Peanut began getting bitten up when she was asleep. We couldn't tell if it was mosquitoes or fleas or (clutch the pearls) bedbugs. We just couldn't figure out why we weren't being eaten when we sleep right next to her. Still haven't figured that one out, but we did catch an actual flea, so the mystery of "Who's eating my baby" has been solved.
The trick is what to do about them without filling our house with poisonous fumes. We decided to put Frontline on the dog and stick her in the crib, then let the baby sleep with us for a night. That lasted half a night because DAMN that baby wiggles. Didn't she or us get any sleep till I put her back in the crib. Must have done the trick though, because she hasn't been eaten up since. Now we're trying to decide what to put down for the batch of fleas that will be hatching some time soon- round two. Normally I would do something boric acidy/diatomaceous earthy, but neither one turns out to be a good idea around a sleeping baby (toxicity and silicosis). We've read some interesting things about mint, of all things, and something called Precor. I'll let you know how it turns out.
On a completely different note, Boy had a friend come visit all the way from Michigan. Since it was on the way back from the airport, I took us all to a place called Howes Caverns. Sadly, it was just me and the boys, because everytime the tour guide said "And what do you think this stalagmite looks like" I had no one to whisper "Something from Good Vibes?" to. And really- they all looked like something from Good Vibes. There was a whole room whose ceiling was covered with formations that can only be described as cl1toral hoods. Seriously. I tried to take a picture because I knew you wouldn't believe me, but it's remarkably difficult to take a picture in a dark cave. Suffice it to say, the whole damn cave was a festival of the phallic and yonic rocks.
The boys spent their time glued to the tour guide like, ummm, a sticky thing to something porous (I'll think up an analogy later- pregnancy is really hard on the brain). Every time the group moved they'd run and push their way through if necessary just so they could be next to her again. Every time she asked if anyone had any questions, they'd think one up. Every time she showed off a formation they'd stand fascinated in awe, oblivious to the fact there were twenty other people waiting for their turn to stand fascinated in awe
All right. Time to get on with things.
Ever so glad "Yonic" is a real word,