Friday, February 10, 2006

the post in which I have been grossed out so thoroughly that I may not walk down my hallway without itching for weeks on end. We cleaned tonight. We were really good about it, even when we were sweeping larvae and moths off the closet ceiling and trying not to knock them into our hair. I lent Catherine a baseball cap and listened to her squeak when the tiny white slinkies would drop off the walls. Despite the squeaking, she was tough. Kerry was a trooper, too, yanking mothful bag after mothful bag off the shelves, and tossing it into a garbage bag destined for the back dumpster. I'm sure there are worse infestations. But I tend not to see it in degrees so much as I see it in, "ARE THEY GONE YET? NO? MORE BLEACH." We soaped and bleached and scrubbed and vacuumed and got rid of pretty much anything in our kitchen that could have been compromised by our wiggly pals. We put up bay leaves and lit candles and thought good thoughts. One of those thoughts was that we'd ridded ourselves of their perky pestilence, but no -- the lifecycle is long, and I think we sort of awoke the larvae that weren't in plain sight. They've been wandering about ever since, scaling the walls in scaly ways and turning me into a bit of a mess. Of course I knew it wouldn't be easy. Of course I knew it would be ongoing. But yeccccch. This is a new kind of ick. So I'm a bit disheartened, though I have enough perspective to know that it's not the hugest deal in the world. People have things happening in their lives that are a billion times worse. I'm lucky. And apparently, I am sharing my luck with larvae. Luck be a larvae tonight? EW. I need to sleep, and HOW. 12:27:20 AM    well, yes, but...  []

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