Yes, we’re still here.

When last I wrote, there was a significant decline in the amount of “buggies” found. Its a good sign, but I’m not giving up my vigilant anti-bug stance. No ma’ameee Darla (that was “no sireee Bob” in feminist lingo… just go with it).

Thursday night: Get the Hell out of Dodge! I decided I was clean enough to go get drinks with some locals. A few crises at work actually determined that I needed to get out, breathe, and step away from the computer. It was a smart move and I have to say, I’m beginning to love my new friends… especially “she who drinks dirty martinis.” I’ll have to talk about them more in another blog, though.

Friday morning: Back to Business. Combing starts at 7am. Girls are looking good (good means there is nothing crawling) and I quickly go through The Enigma’s thatch of mohawk hair. YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME! He has two nits. FATHER SNORTER (another new feminist term that I just made up)! Suddenly, my sense of winning the war has plummeted into an abysmal pit that smells like vinegar and tea tree oil. But, fear not! I jump back online and locate my closest RobiComb. Its a lice tazer. I pile the buggy kids into the car, and drive to the drug store.

Friday afternoon: My First Tazer. Buying lice products is kind of like buying condoms when you’re a teenager. Its just embarassing. Its not the stigma of being “unclean” (I can give you medical info that disputes that idea) its the fact that I know if I was a cashier ringing up lice removal supplies, it would be difficult for me to not cringe. So, we meander through the store. Sure, we need Q-tips… and chocolate… oh, and a lice tazer… and how about this greeting card? It took a good 30 minutes to actually find the lice tazer, since I sure as hell wasn’t asking where it lived. We finally check out, and clearly the parasite gods are shining their light on me, because the cashier starts talking about how he only tans, never burns, unlike me. Bite me asshole, we have lice and I’m not afraid to use them.

Friday evening: Its Like a Bug Zapper, Only Somewhat More Diabolical. Its zapping eggs. Its zapping me when I test it with my slightly moistened finger. It zapped the kids’ ears, but they’ll live. Its working! I feel like Dr. Frankenfurter, only I’m killing things and not wearing a garter belt.

Saturday & Sunday: I Have Earned a Degree in Liceology. Really, I know way too much about lice now, just because I need reassurance and keep googling “lice treatment” like a dork. Basically, I will not be wrong about my feelings on lice and their removal. Its my Taurus showing up. SNORT LIKE BULL. And, you know what, after reading horror story after horror story, including the possibility of lice attaching themselves to NOSE HAIR, I feel pretty lucky. Not lucky enough to stop combing until all of the evidence is gone, mind you. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop checking their hair now. Like ever.

This lice update has been brought to you by icky crawly things that want to suck your blood.