7/15/07
Tonight I find myself in a very familiar position: sleeping somewhere else other than my own home because the place is being flea-bombed. As far as I can tell, I've done this every place I've ever lived except the East Village (which was oddly sanitary). When we did it at the Purple House, Bud and I enraged Matt McM. downstairs because it sent a flurry of bugs scattering from our floor to his, turning his apartment into "Exorcist III".
The Pink House had a flea infestation that was so pervasive and incredible that it harkened to the Old Testament. Scotty went down in the basement to investigate, and came back with his legs black with fleas, covered in bites. I've still never seen anything like it.
We closed all the windows, even though it was late August, set off ten bombs and the entire house went to a matinee of "Pocahontas" just to get us out of the place while the poison wafted into our nooks (do you remember that, Jif?) - unbelievably, it worked. "Pocahontas" was terrible, though.
Anyway, I'm doing it again, so wife, daughter and I moved next door to an open room in the old hotel/apartment building. After the post-fogger two hour grace period, I aired our place out for the evening, and there's something very odd about walking back into a home you've just bug-bombed; it's like drifting into an alternate reality planet. Everything looks familiar, but you're not sure if the atmosphere is breathable, and it has the odd smell of space polymers.
Thus, instead of an actual blog, I'm going to post something for my mom. She and her business partner Sue are releasing an amazing (and quite different) children's album soon - details in the months ahead - and it has already mesmerized Lucy beyond description. Yesterday, during the post-7pm haze she enters while powering down for both bath and bed, she dreamily sat on the couch and sang along with the songs. Even though she usually sings MUCH MORE BOISTEROUSLY, I thought my mom would like this little moment:
Thank you, Lucy. I needed that this morning more than I can tell you.
Love,
Gramma
Me too.
Love it.
Also, my 7 month old was playing on the floor while I was watching it, and she was all into it. So I' guess we can be one of your first customers!
Man, that was "the pause that refreshes." Lucy sings beautifully, and the music calmed me right down. (Not an inconsiderable feat after I've just plowed through all my Monday-morning e-mails at work!)
Thanks, Ian.
That was GREAT!!!
One of my worst memories. The fleas were in my pants, under my socks, and even in my underwear (tighties, for those of you with steel stomachs). My legs were totally pink for the first 24 hours, at which point the swelling went down to reveal approximately 200 bites. It just happened to be 95 degrees and humid, and since the Pink House lacked air conditioning, the burn and itch made it unbearable to sleep. The only relief was going to the movies to cool off for a couple of hours.
Sweet justice was served when Diamond Jim and the Dragon Lady came over to peruse the current disrepair of the P.H. - I thought we had avoided a crisis when they didn't investigate the basement, only to be horrified when they returned after leaving, specifically to go down to the basement. Nothing was said when they came back up, although a couple of days later Diamond Jim asked us if we knew we had fleas. We, of course, denied. Diamond Jim did not pick up on my wearing pants in the dog days of summer to cover up my scabbed legs.
Oh, dear me. Sweet Lucy. Thanks for posting that, Ian. I'm gonna play it for my whole office.
The origin of the fleas at the Purple House was at least in part Chuck & Annis' dog Hayley (I can't speak for Bear's flea proclivities). I will never forget the night I returned from a week at Chuck's house in Chattanooga (he and Annis stayed in Tennessee with the dog) and walked into the house wearing shorts, only to be attacked by a horde of bloodthirsty fleas who had been without their favorite meal for seven days. It was the same scenario Scotty describes; my legs were black with fleas and I ran screaming to the Lodge, returning the next morning with flea bombs. An awful memory...
Damn, she is cute!
Diamond Jim Lilly! I'm sure he's still out there, brusquely collecting rent from undergrads as we speak.
remember!?!? how could i forget... i can't imagine what would have happened had it been YOU instead of scotty down there... jaysus that was ugggly...
Fleas don't like me as much as they like Scotty (and my wife).