House Contaminants and Unfortunate Decisions: Story Time

Everybody has messes in their house from time to time. Mine is no exception, I hate to admit it. I want my home to look like the IKEA store gave me a free furnishing from the year 2163. I do realize, however, that I'm not perfect, and while I do think I would be a good professional organizer, I must accept the happenings of life, messy as they are. 

I have this thing about being "messy" versus "dirty." Messy is when a person lets clothes pile up on the floor occasionally. Maybe they've had a rough day or are just busy. Maybe they're very tired. I'm fine with some messy to a degree, as long as it eventually gets put away. I always end up putting things away after a cleaning and organizing spree. It's how I keep my sanity. 

Dirty is when a person lets perishable items rot in the thin air and doesn't clean it up. For example, leaving dirty dishes in the sink for days, or, God forbid, dumping food in with the dishes and letting it sit. Or when a person doesn't flush the toilet or lets tub scum grow. Or leaves tampon wrappers on the floor. Well, the last one isn't perishable, but it clearly needs to be thrown out. So does dirt tracked into the house and onto the white couch and carpet. This behavior is totally unacceptable for me, and sends me up a wall and into the mountains. 

Unsanitary is when there are health code violations in your house, such as hoards of mice or bugs living with you. If you were to ask me if I'm OK with such guests, you know what the answer will be. 

Unfortunately, I had to deal with a potentially unsanitary, dirty disaster this week. I left for work at 7:30 in the morning on Monday. My shift was up at 2:00 in the afternoon. When I got home and opened the door, I was greeted by a friendly, black cat. It took me 5 seconds to realize-he wasn't mine! The tuxedo cat began furring me and expressing his contentment that I was there. My roommate immediately began telling me that she was hosting 2 cats for a few weeks and that they were being treated for fleas. I was surprised and didn't know what to say, considering that she knew I had a cat already in the house who didn't have fleas. Not a good idea. 

I also noticed that she had moved Shadowfax's belongings into the back of the apartment into the hallway. Now that I had had a few minutes to process what was going on, I knew that this entire situation would become trouble if it was left alone. 

I researched the best way to get rid of fleas. I learned that the vast majority of fleas are eggs, larvae and pupae! This made my skin crawl to know that eggs can be laid, dropped, and hatched anywhere there's fabric, and that there are always more fleas following behind the last flea killed. While the cats were getting better, I knew this could potentially be a disaster for our furniture and carpet and especially for Shadowfax. As much as I love cats and would enjoy rescuing them, I did not appreciate my own cat having her home taken away from her, the home that I carefully prepared for her with plenty of cat beds, resting places, toys, and clean chairs and mats. And now her territory could potentially be infested with fleas. Multiple times, the tuxedo cat was able to knock over the baby gate I had set up, and move into the flea free zone near my room and Shadowfax. This happened nearly every time I turned around. He also furred my legs which happened to be wearing fabric leggings. Great. Another way to track in the next generation of fleas to hatch in my room and crawl onto Shadowfax's body, to start life anew. I had to climb over the baby gate and walk on eggshells to make sure nothing was spread. I knew I couldn't live like this for an indefinite amount of time. I didn't want Shadowfax to, either. Plus, Shadowfax's rent was being paid for. These cats were not only flea-ridden, but illegal. 

I decided I had no choice but to talk to the landlords about the situation. I had tried to calmly talk to my roommate about fleas and how they can spread on any fabric very quickly. She was fined $1,000 ($500 for each cat) plus the cost of the exterminator. When she got the phone call she was very angry. She sent me nasty text messages saying that I overreacted and that I should not speak to her again for the rest of the time we live together. This made me sad, as we got pedicures together and she even told me about problems with a bad boyfriend. My intention is never to just get someone in trouble or make them pay to be mean. But I had to do what was best for Shadowfax, suffice it to say every woman has to make her own decision. The problem would not have gone away, and it could have gotten much worse had I waited. Thankfully the exterminator found no fleas. I hope those cats went to a place where their needs could be met and they could have been taken care of well.

Now I'm washing, vacuuming and spraying down everything made of upholstery and fabric to make sure all the eggs, larvae and pupae are obliterated. Fleas are one of the only creatures that you can commit genocide towards in a good conscience. And die they must. Shadowfax will then be ready to return to a clean, pristine home. 

Goodbye, you buggy mess of fleas. Don't you ever return again.