Fleas

Ive been going out to lunch a lot lately, today was no different, back at Hari Kari with the gringo girls for 3 courses for 3 dollars. Hari Kari is the kind of place you sit on pillows and take off your shoes. As were sitting there talking about birth control and mace, Im mindlessly itching my ankles and I remember to ask the girls if theyve had problems with bug bites. Turns out theyve had problems, and those problems are called fleas.

So I was right, its not bugbeds that are biting in the night, its fleas. Apparently because its Chile and because there are street dogs and cats everywhere that they exist everywhere.

I find this both hilarious and devastating. The fact that for months now Ive been itching and itchy to the extent that I have blogged about it, wondering naively if it was a bedbug attack, and over lunch 3 Americans announce casually, oh yes, what youve got is a case of the fleas. The only way I know of getting rid of fleas is by wearing a waxy red collar sold by purina. The girl from Wisconsin rid herself of her pesty friends with some special shower gel, the girl from Portland sucked it up and lives with it, and I think the girl from California cleans and vaccumns religiously enough she has won the battle.

Taking it all in stride, I plan to chalk this up as yet another delightful story to tell at dinner parties or perhaps a short chapter in my memoires: the bugs Ive slept with.