Flea Circus

Some things are best forgotten, at least until nostalgia can set in. We were so excited to go off “the Sam program” for a little while in Australia: after so many weeks being served, being guided, and being cared for, and we just wanted to cook our own meals in our own home. So, we booked a lovely suburban home in Manley Beach and looked forward to cooking too many desserts and making too much slime.

Two weeks ago, our host cancelled. We had nowhere to stay. Airbnb apologized with a $200 credit but there were few alternatives in Manly. The best was a new listing, and while I generally don’t take chances on homes with no reviews, it looked quite good and the price was great. We were a bit desperate so I figured we’d take a chance, because everyone has to list a place for the first time some time.

Oh, regret. First, the heater would not turn off. Then the bug bites started coming. And coming…and coming. I’d already been in frequent attempted contact with the property management company, but they were characteristically slow to respond and now were suspicious of our reports that we had seen fleas jumping around on the couch, and our daughter was covered in bites. They asked for photographs, and told me the previous tenants had not complained. I guess I can’t blame them for asking for evidence, but I felt bruised that they doubted my integrity, because I don’t lie or steal. So I sent pictures, and videos. And finally I sent a whole album.

Maybe there were bedbugs too? I found many critters once I started looking, and now I’m paranoid. We have all sorts of bites. Last night I barely slept, over caffeinated and over stressed. Today we took all our clothes to the local overpriced launderette to be dried on high temp to kill everything that might try to hitch a ride when we left.

And we left. I found an overpriced last-minute deal on a hotel room in the CBD, which at least gets us closer to the Opera House where we can have our spirits lifted watching Jews get ostracized by Shakespeare in The Merchant of Venice. Hopefully the kids don’t just sleep through it, and hopefully they enjoy it, and hopefully we can just move on.

Although as I write, here I am on the ferry heading back for one last rendezvous with the bug hotel. Rachel forgot all her makeup in a drawer, items lovingly assembled into a happy family of beautifying splendor. I think she’ll enjoy her makeup more than dinner with me, at least in the long run, so I’m running back to the north head on the fast ferry to see if they are still in the drawer where she last found them. Hopefully I won’t miss the show.

Tomorrow we get back on the Sam program and head off to see what North Queesnsland has to offer. I’ll take Sam a bit less for granted, and enjoy that despite being in the tropics, our hotel will most likely be beautiful, relaxing, and flea free.