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A subtitle for this article could be: The Flea Fiasco: A Cautionary Real Estate Tale
I was in a state of relief, relaxation floated over my body. The previous tenants were gone! I knew there would need to be a lot of clean up, and extermination of roaches. My vacation was starting in two days, and I was looking forward to it. It was going to be a vacation to see relatives, but it was always a good time. So, I headed to the vacant house. I was armed with roach spray, and roach bombs, and new locks for the doors. I would spend a minimal amount of time right now, then I would really be able to get right at it when I got back, and the roaches would be dead. Somehow, the house never comes with roaches, but I get that bonus when some tenants leave. (One house, I opened the front door, and a shower of live roaches fell down on me from the top of the door). Most of the mess that was left was on the outside, the inside was not too bad. This time I had everything under control. I would not have to be dodging, and killing roaches while I tried to clean.

It was wonderful to visit family. Most of our relatives are in that area, and some who live elsewhere, visited also. We extended the time of the vacation, and took the grandkids to an indoor water park for a few days. After I returned home, and rested for an extra day, to get caught up, I knew I had a mission to accomplish. Clean up, and paint the rental property. I entered the property, ready for a full day's work. I didn't see any roaches run, good! But, what was happening? I was being attacked, by something. Mostly, it was around my ankles, but I felt myself being bitten on my forearms also. Roaches don't do that,... fleas? No, the lease didn't allow for pets. I couldn't take one second more, so running from the house, I stopped to brush fleas, (what seemed to be millions), off my ankles, shoes, and arms. I got in my car, and went directly to get flea spray bombs. Can you believe it, the same spray that can kill a roach doesn't kill a flea. As I was buying the flea bombs, I was alternating between trying not to scratch, and scratching without using my fingers, so supposedly no one would know I was scratching. Anyone who saw my contortions, knew I had some kind of problem. I got the flea bombs, and went back to the house. Ran in, and set them off in all the various rooms, all the while trying to hold my breath, so I wouldn't get the fumes in my lungs. So, I ran outside again, repeating my ritual of brushing off fleas.

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