Flee Fleas!

ARG!!

Oye, how do I make these fleas go away?

Hubby says bomb the house but I’m not willing to do the clean up afterwards.

I bought stuff for the yard and the house and the dog. And the fleas survived.

I have tried Borax (it has worked before), but still they attack my ankles like a rabid dog at a ho-down.

I know I have to be careful because the children play on the floor, we all (except Hubby – but that’s a complaint for another day) have an aversion to wearing shoes in the house, and of course the Asthma that tries to rob us of the ability to breathe. This means I need something skin friendly, with little to no smell or dust, that will destroy – and I do mean DESTROY – fleas and their little eggs. They must be destroyed, I say. DESTROYED!!!!!!! *ehhm*

I feel like we are in some sick twisted B grade horror flick where the fleas are a distant cousin of some invincible alien race. They plan to take over the world! … or at least my world.

Oh, my efforts have helped some. However, one of the sprays purchased from the vet seems to make the eggs hatch faster. I have treated Son’s room 4 times in one week only to have babies, yes babies, cover my foot like a mud puddle when I walk into his room. Now that I have stopped spraying for a couple days it’s not as bad.

Trying the daily vacuuming has taught me that NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE LIKES TO VACUUM!

ArG!

Oh and Hubby… Hubby hates them more than I do. He’ll pick one off of himself and smoosh and squeeze and mash it until it is dead. It is as if he is taking all his childhood deeply buried subconscious repressed anger out on the flea. It is the only time I have seen him borderline sadistic because I think he gets a sick (yet understandable) joy out of the obliterating the little buggers.

Now, if only we could get a bunch of little flea killing fingers to comb the house and destroy them all we could be a happy little peaceful bunch.
Until then… DEATH TO THE FLEAS! DEATH TO THE FLEAS! DEATH… oh you get the picture.