Imagine having to pack up all of your food, personal items, pillows, and blankets. You are technically not moving but it sure feels like it. Every shelf in the pantry is empty, every spice in your endless spice rack is gone. The fridge is empty. Your bed has been stripped of all linens. Your clothes are boxed up.
And you are homeless.
For five days.
Thanks to a teeny little bug called a termite.
Damn those termites.
Our house is being "tented" this weekend.
And it is one giant pain in the ass.
I know you're thinking "When is she gonna stop with the one sentence paragraphs?"
Darius and I are staying at my dad's townhouse this weekend. Which is technically, my townhouse too since I am part-owner and continue to pay half the mortgage. But it is not my home. It's my dad's home. And while Darius is through the moon that he gets to have sleep overs at Ya-Ya's house, I'm thinking about that Easter candy that I forgot to pack up and how I must remember to throw it away when the termite tent comes off before anyone eats that toxic shit and dies.
Come Wednesday, I'll be unpacking my life and worrying that those chemicals don't clear the way they say they do and start looking for strange moles or spots or something that tells me we made a really stupid choice to have the home we live in totally filled with deadly chemicals all to kill a teeny little bug that doesn't know any better than to eat my damn house.
Until then, I'll be trying to distract myself with the best thing my dad has to offer: unlimited Cable.
