Wednesday, 9 November 2016

I'm A Lousy Host For Fleas



            On Saturday October 15th I spent the day studying for Monday’s quiz by copying out my lecture notes but also worked on ideas for my English essay that was due in ten days. On top of that I tried to get a handle on the ideas I’m supposed to be covering for my Philosophy essay, which was due in twelve days. I squeezed in time as well to try to get caught up with my open stage reviews.
            In the evening, my upstairs neighbour, David, came and asked me if I wanted some beer. Of course I did, so I went upstairs and he gave me six cans of Budweiser from the States. I think he’d just come from his sister’s place in Windsor. I recalled that he mentioned that his sister has a cat, so I asked if he’d like to take my three-quarters full bag of kibble to her, since I certainly don’t need it anymore.
            There’s a strange moment every night when I’m getting ready for bed and I think to myself, with tired dread, “Oh! I’ve got to clean the litter box!” but then realize with relief, “Oh! I don’t have to clean the litter box anymore!”

            Sunday October 16th was my last full day to study for Monday’s quiz. I continued digitizing my hand written lecture notes, but I also worked on finishing up my last two Tranzac open stage reviews.
            Fleas continued to be a problem. I really don’t know how the things can survive on me when they are actually used to living inside of a cat’s fur. I am certainly not the host in the sense of habitat.
            I have been bitten, though not a lot in visible places. What I feel most every now and then is being landed upon. It’s like being hit by a tossed sesame seed. They also seem somewhat indestructible. If I manage to grab one and try to crush it between my fingers, it will quite sometimes jump away when I stop.

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