Nothing (much) To Report

(Long post - if I could shrink it down on the main page, I would do so, but I can’t as far as I know.)

Ever obsessively stared at any tiny speck to see if it moves, before attempting to squish it?
Or investigated every little tickle or itch you feel on your skin just to see if something visible is the cause?
Ever dreaded going to your own bedroom and instead spent the night on the sofa? (married folk need not answer that one.)
I have. And if it hadn’t been for Biffovision’s latest post, I probably would’ve taken a lot longer to detangle this post from of my head and onto this blog.

About two weeks ago I was having my falling-asleep time disturbed by an itchy forehead. It was just a little niggle that was keeping me from dropping off into la-la land in bed, and I didn’t pay that much attention. For some reason my head was far more irritated by my out-growing fringe then normal, and as I had nothing else to suspect I put it down to some sort of hyper-sensitivity brought on by the anti-histamines I’d recently bought, that was my logic. If only that had by the cause, the past few days would’ve been far more pleasant.

On Friday 2nd, I met up with a couple of folks from a localish online group. I’d never met these people before but everything seemed to go well, and I didn’t embarrass myself in public which made a nice change. Saturday night was spent feeling a little more hysterical and freaked out. The itchy was more noticeable, perhaps because I was tired from the night before, or maybe because the real cause had gotten a little worse. On one of my trips the bathroom, I noticed something move in my hair. I tried to get as close to the mirror as possible and saw a small black thing move out of sight in my hair. Oh shit, I’ve got nits! Was my immediate reaction. I stripped off all my bedding and replaced it before booting up the laptop to investigate head lice. Nits are simply empty egg casing, the thing that makes you itch is the saliva of the adult louse which has supped on your blood. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how I might have got them. I couldn’t have picked them up the night before as I was feeling the need to scratch for a few days beforehand. I was seeing the tiny monsters on my pillow and after peering at them closely, I squished them and very satisfying that was too. But they didn’t look like the pictures I saw on Google Images. In fact they looked more like dust mites, but they couldn’t be dust mites as they were microscopic, so said one site. My eyesight can’t be that good?! I also discounted the fleetingly-terrifying thought that they might be bed bugs. I tried to sleep, but mostly failed.

In the morning I quietly harassed my dad into buying some head lice lotion. After a wait that seemed to go on forever, he returned with a small bottle and a nit comb and I promptly commandeered the bathroom. I read the instructions but then just forgot about them and proceed to apply the oily lotion to wet hair when it should have been dry. The combing out took ages and others were getting more and more vocal about my long stay inside the bathroom. I grabbed a clean towel that had been lying around my room and used that to dry my now supposedly bug-free hair. I was still feeling the itchiness, but I put that down to my own paranoia cos they had to be all dead now. I was told on more than one occasion during the day to stop looking in the mirror to see if there was anything there, for no one else could see the tiny things, but then I learnt the biggest lesson of this whole sorry saga that my eyesight is pretty damn good and everyone else’s in this house is rubbish.

On Monday I’d decided that they weren’t head lice cos I was still scratching and they were appearing in other parts of my room. Plus I read on some website that head lice can’t transfer from furniture or pillows to peeps, and the critters I was being invaded by moved bloody quick, so that didn’t make sense. I set about having a large tidy up, which included mass washing of anything that could be washed and hoovering that which couldn’t. My curtains and net curtain were covered in the wee beasties and I found them crawling all over my exercise bike - sadly the result of which I haven’t been on it for a while. That’s my excuse anyway. They were also in proliferation around my window, and I hit upon the bright idea of using hot, soapy water to remove them. Which worked a treat, so long as you had the cloth-face flat, with no crinkles or wrinkles in it, as you would soon find several of them walking quickly up your arm. I’d gotten it into my head that I was dealing with mutant dust mites, but they far more sensible inner me was saying that was rubbish, but that they were probably a mite. that night, whilst lying in bed, paranoid about every little speck of dust, grit and what-have-you, the highly logical division of my brain kicked into gear. They’re probably are bird mites, as they match the description and pictures I’d seen online during my frequent investigations. The fact that bird’s have nested in the guttering above my window for years and that I have my window for the most part of the year would also tie up how this infestation came to be. A little voice piped up and before long a whole chorus was chanting in my head: Shut The Window! So I did.

Tuesday was spent further delving into the world of the bird mite and I learnt some scary things. I haven’t noticed being bitten, just them crawling over my skin and in my hair. By now I was fed up with it all and just wanted someone to take away the problem for me. he lack of sleep wasn’t helping to ease the constant paranoia. Somehow, by he miracle that is the internet, I found a possible solution. (Incidentally, hsdOnline.co.uk are fantastic for dealing with all sorts of pesty problems.) So I ordered two fog fumers and two litre bottles of Protector C. Then once the order was processed, I read that orders placed before noon would be delivered the next day. It was past noon, closer to 3pm by that time. I despaired at the thought of having to deal with this problem for days on end. I wanted MY room back. It’s supposed to be my sanctuary, away from everyone else and their noise and fag smoke, somewhere I can read, listen to music, fart in private. But it wasn’t. It was occupied by others and I got the feeling they just didn’t appreciate the décor. I spent that night on the sofa, and got some sleep much to my surprise.

Around midday on Wednesday there was a delivery. And I was over the moon. After a little more hoovering, I lit the foggy and retired to spend another night on the sofa. Thursday was spent tip toeing around my room on the look out for dead things and there were lots of them. I hoovered some more, sprayed copiously and rehung my curtains. I was feeling a lot happier, but still wary. Before I hung the curtains back up, I sprayed vast quantities around the window frame and then had the bright idea to spray around the outside of the window. This was less then inspired due to the wind blowing a good deal of the spray right back into my face and my room, bringing along with it some of the mites. I did spy a large group of them on the brick work and the got a blasting from the insecticide. I didn’t reopen my window though, and spent the hot days mostly avoiding my room. Not being in a oven-like bedroom is preferable to having a power-and-money-hungry fan on full blast all day long.

I’d order a bigger quantity of the liquid annihilator, and that too surprised me by turning up the next day. Dad’s task this past Saturday was to fetch his ladder from the old workshop and the scramble up there to remove the bird’s nests and spray anything and everything he could. But he saw no nests to remove, which is odd so instead sprayed the insecticide about copiously. It didn’t rain for about a day and a half which is probably more than enough time for any parasites to kick the bucket. I still haven’t re-opened my window, as I’m not certain. The second fogging will take place tonight, so that means another night on the sofa for me. But I don’t mind. I’m just hoping that this is the end of the troubles. I’m NOT saying it is, because that would be inviting Sod’s Law to take a stand and laugh at me mockingly. I’m merely hoping and wishing and all that sorta thing.

-whale

I know. I’ve been bad; I’ve been quiet. I promised something, and I’ve failed to deliver. Shame on me. The wedding post is still in production. *cough* Moving on…

At the very start of my online absence, a month ago, I had a very good excuse for the silence. I was ill. I believe this was something of a self-induced cold, if that’s at all possible. It started on a Sunday night; I was happily engrossed in a natural history programme on BBC2 when out of nowhere a hideous object floated across the screen. I, naturally, screamed; well, yelled might be closer to the mark.
It was one of THEM!
In my room!
Oh no, not again.

Three times I tried and failed to squish the thing with the mop I had at the ready. To say I was on edge, scared and fretful would be understating it. At about midnight I gave up on the game of hide and seek, which I was losing in spectacle fashion – I can see the point of minimalist living now. Trying to track down an ugly, erratically-flying, admittedly harmless, but rather large fly in a room full of books, that happens to be painted in midnight blue proved a little too much for me. I scooped up my bedding and prepared myself for a night on the sofa.

At 5 am, after not even a hint of sleep, I decided that I wouldn’t be permanently forced out of my own bedroom by something so trivial. I knew it was still in there. Did I have a relaxing, peaceful sleep? Did I bugger! I was paranoid about it flying out of somewhere (I believed it was somewhere under the bed) and brushing against my foot or leg so I spent the whole night overheating under the duvet that was tucked in so tight I couldn’t move. Uncomfortable would be a word to describe the situation.

I spent most of the following Monday avoiding my room, to afraid of running in to it again. That night I was knackered, and I really wanted my room back to myself. I sat poised on the bed; mop in hand, ready to launch a full-on attack on the wee beastie. After a little while it appeared. Trying to control my yelping to a minimum, I waited until it settled on something so that the mop attack would be 100% effective. Unfortunately, I was a little impatience and lunged at the first opportunity. I overcompensated for the previous missed chances and pushed and twisted the mop about far more than before. Upon inspecting the mop head, something done slowly, so as not to get a very nasty surprise of the supposed dead flying directly at my face; I discovered no corpse. Had I got it? Was I to have a peaceful night? Was the sore throat that had developed overnight about to turn into something more? In short: yes, yes, and yes. Some mop shaking and twisting in midair, dumped a partial corpse upon the bed; some legs, a wing, what looked like part of a body. The joy at the realisation that this particular battle was over was immense. I shut my window up, changed my bedding (it had gained a smoky odour from the sofa, the result of sharing a living space with smokers), shower and a hunt for some Tunes left me feeling far more perky then I would normally at the start of a cold.

I thought the annual horror for me was over, until one night last week. It was very warm following rain the day/night before, perfect conditions for more of the bastard things to appear. I was simply preparing a sandwich when a loud buzzing passed my right ear, and then I saw it. I’m not sure if the screaming started before or after I saw it. It certainly scared the shit out of me though. I didn’t manage to kill that one until the follow day. It thought that hiding amongst the house plants on the kitchen window sill would somehow save it; it did not. (Commence evil laughter.)

Moral of the story? Getting oneself in a right flap (technical term) isn’t good for you. And obtaining something a little more effective than a mop to annihilate your nemesis (I can't even stand to look at the picture without squirming) is a wise move. Like a damp mop, perhaps.

(Evil laughter can stop now)

Being the generous soul that I am, I shared the cold with the rest of the family. Tis my revenge on the smokers. (A little more evil laughter, that quickly dies out with the follow sentence) But mum has a persist chest infection, which isn’t helpful to her condition. And she isn’t sleeping well so is more grumpy than usual.

I have been away; away in the deeper, darker and generally murkier parts of my brain. It’s been tortuous. And fun.

I’ve also been battling demons. I say demons, actually I’ve been fighting the flying harbourers of doom. With my trusty spear and with tremendous courage, I’ve slayed many of the evil monsters.

OK, so wielding a slightly dusty mop, I’ve screamed and jumped around and pretty much flapped like a girl, and managed to squish a few crane flies. I absolutely hate them. I shall not be taking the piss out of anyone with phobias, whether the smallest spider makes them shriek or something a little more strange.

…But not scary in the sense that “I’m Famous & I’m Frightened!” was. And that wasn’t scary for the reasons it was meant to be. The memory of Rusty Lee’s laugh terrified me more than anything to do with the “ghosts”.

The What If…? Department of my brain got a little carried away with itself. It’s still working slightly too hard even now. It sought the advice of the: -

Fact Department
We Just Know These Things!
But Don’t Ask How, cos we probably don’t remember.

Now, a wee bit of knowledge coupled with something happening (or not happening, as it would have been) is a dangerous thing. It can lead to sleepless nights. Although thankfully not on this occasion, despite me wishing it so.

Strange thing to desire: lack of sleep and a certain amount of suffering, but it’s far easier to deal with than the alternative, so I’m quite happy.

I totally understand that this won’t make sense to anybody, unless you have any comprehension of how my brain works, and there aren’t many who can say that and mean it.

-Bea Whale

Tags: neuroses