Fleas and Finding My Zen

I’m guessing you are having a hell of a time making a connection between fleas and anything zen, and I’d have to agree with you. But that’s what occurred to me as I opened a window to type. It may have had something to do with looking down at my dog’s butt next to me on the couch and watching a damn flea scurry across it. So, yeah, that’s how my day is going.

It isn’t much of a surprise really, considering how much my cat is scratching herself – she looks a bit frantic about the whole thing. Which tells me I have a problem.

And problems don’t tend to have much in common with zen.

So, yeah. I’m working on finding my zen seeing as how it obviously left the building right along with my velvet Elvis painting. (Er, that’s hyperbole folks.)

July is a busy time for me. My kids go to camp, which means writing their initials in all their clothing. I go to camp, which means I forgo labeling my clothing, but I pack scads of stuff for camp. This is based on me being an adult as well as a camp director. Pretty much every day of July I am running around like one of those proverbial chickens. I really don’t need to add anything to my to-do list, thank you very much.

July is also when my corner of the planet starts to finally heat up. And sometimes that means we get fleas. I’m pretty sure the process goes like this: the weather gets nice and glorious. Charlie, being the sun-worshiping dog that he is, likes to laze around outside. Apparently baking dog is some sort of powerful magnetic force for fleas who hop on his moveable feast. Then he comes inside and all hope is lost, aka, the cats become buffet bars as well. And if you know what that all means, then you know that my to-do list just got fugly.

And the whole damn thing makes my skin crawl and edge a bit more close to the slippery slope of crazy.

Last month, I tried a new topical flea treatment that I will a) not name here and b) not continue to use. Suffice it to say, you get what you pay for. Or, in this case, 3 pet baths, daily vacuuming, washing of all the things, etc. only to still have freaking fleas on my pets. So, I shall be searching under those couch cushions for flea beasties and quarters in order to go buy the heavy artillery.

So. Zen. Where are you? I’m thinking after I get a whole bunch of that stuff done, I shall retire to my back deck with an Amaretto Sour in one hand and a book in the other. At least the combination of sun, drinks, and words will help me forget that there are things crawling in my house. *shudder* I guess I shall find my zen tomorrow, but I’ll look for it today just in case it shows up.

3 thoughts on “Fleas and Finding My Zen

  1. Sounds like you have a lot on your plate. I hope that Zen walks back in the door.
    Do they still make flea-collars? I think they used to work… a long time ago… and that might take a thing or two off your to-do-list. Though you still need to work out how to get them on the fleas 😉

  2. Zen, that ellusive flutter-by of flow and wave, small sparks and deep pools of things that swim with no thought as to where… If you’re not asleep yet get out a lava lamp, stair at the aquarium….Oh-HELL-I-HATE-FLEAS-KILLTHEFLEAS-KILLTHEFLEAS-KILLTHEFLEAS!

    Sorry, where was I? Oh, Seriously hope that starts to feel more manageable very soon. (Sincere noises of Support and Sendings your way of Zen-like doses of Good Ju-Ju)

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