Thursday, 16 August 2012

Oh no!

I have set off flea bombs in Mr G's bedroom, the guest bedroom and the room in which I sleep and work, which houses all my clothes. At last, I thought, I can relax and not have to glance down and inspect every itch and tingle on legs and feet, to see if it's caused by a flea that I must grab instantly and dunk in the flea-drowning jug, which contains a goodly squirt of 'agent orange', which finishes them off instantly.

Then just now, sitting in my room on the telephone, I glanced down and spotted something black on my trousers. I approached it with a finger and PING! it bounced, across the room. It was another flea, and a very lively one at that and now it's about to infest my room all over again.

I can't de-flea the other downstairs rooms because they are used by Mr G all the time and he hardly every goes out. He refuses to be barred from his living room and kitchen for two hours, so the fleas that are lurking there are bound to infest the bedrooms all over again and are probably comfortably reproducing IN MY WARDROBE! AAARGH! What on EARTH am I going to do?

By the way, I had a survey done on a cottage that needed a quick sale and guess what? The damp treatment and roof repairs are going to come to over £10,000 so I am going to have to withdraw my offer and yet another estate agent will be horribly rude to me.

Ever felt like packing the proverbial spotted handkerchief and running away? (Though that's probably got bloody fleas, too!)

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