So I came home from BlogHer10 to find that all three of the cats have fleas. FLEAS. Do you know how much money it costs to get rid of fleas? I'll give you a hint: A LOT. A lot of money. Money I don't have. But the cats need to be de-flea'ed, which is a delightful word I just made up, so I paid the money and got the de-flea'ing stuff. What else am I going to do? I mean, my babies have FLEAS. My APARTMENT has fleas. *I* have fleas. If you're NEAR MY APARTMENT? YOU probably have fleas.
I seriously can't stop crying. It's ridiculous to cry, I know, I mean, it's just fleas for chrissakes, but it makes me feel dirty and itchy and I feel like I'm the worst cat mother ever. All this happened yesterday, when I got home from BlogHer10. Which I can't even talk about, because I'm too itchy.
Of course, I have to share the love, so of COURSE I had brought my bestie Snarky Amber back WITH me from BlogHer10, not KNOWING that there were going to be fleas. Did YOU know there were going to be fleas? I CERTAINLY didn't know there were going to be fleas. So I was completely squicked out, horrified, felt like the worst cat mother ever, and I was also the world's worst hostess in the universe. So the last day and a half have been pretty awesome, is what I am saying.
I'll write about BlogHer10 soon. Promise.
But I have bugs to kill.
And crying to do.
Effing hell's bells, man. Fleas.