Della came up behind me last night as I was standing at the sink in the kitchen,
leaned forward, ever so sneakily,
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.
and too much to chew.
that's my story.