bitten

Della came up behind me last night as I was standing at the sink in the kitchen,
then
leaned forward, ever so sneakily,
and
bit me very hard, directly in the butt. the bite was so surprising and so hard I yelped out, and spun around. She cried, since she was just curious. And I did give her a tiny lecture, but I had scared her with my reaction enough I figured.  Man alive, I will have some bruise there.

In other news, our apartment building has fleas. None in here yet. But many, many, many out there. I am feeling like a house bound crazy person. I cannot get to the car, or the laundry or the garbage without removing many many many from my legs. I have tried spraying myself with cedar (a repellent) and I still run out of fingers.

I am looking for alternatives (aka cannot imagine moving but cannot imagine staying), so any locals who know of an apartment or small house to rent? I am all ears.

(the landlord met with me and an exterminator, and they really are trying, but they are not winning (nor are they as irritated as I am since apparently I am irresistible flea-nip) and I am done.

In other news, the summer is being its own insane self, complete with layers of complexity that we did not choose, and others that I have created from not wanting to make too many changes (ha) or saying no to any potential incoming work. Compressed schedule plus daycare in flux and now farther away and a real desire to focus on my own work, and, yes. Each day, no matter how productive, always has a list longer at the end than at the beginning.  Too much to chew, to stay on theme.

So. yes.
bitten
and bitten
and too much to chew.
that's my story.