Flee! Flea!

I suppose it's a peril of owning a pet...

There I was, minding my own business, surfing the internet on a lazy Sunday afternoon, contemplating Pimms (though not drinking any... bizarrely, we seem only to have Pimms Winter, which clearly cannot be drunk during summer... it just wouldn't be proper), watching movie trailers, and feeling generally quite good for having sorted my display shelves to accommodate the TF Movie toys I shall inevitable accrue...

...When I felt a little tickle on my neck. I reached up to scratch it and felt something small and mobile. I've seen flies dancing around my room all day because (gasp) I've had my bedroom window open since yesterday (even slept on top of my bed, starkers, because it's been so warm. Steady on, gentle reader, that's as explicit as it gets). When I looked at my hand, I had a brief glimpse of small, dark insect-y thing before it jumped away, landing on my trousers. I caught it (loosely speaking) and tried to grab it to (ahem) dispose of it, but the bloody thing bounced away again... and, despite spraying my room with household flea killer, I'm still getting those strange prickly itches that my body does when it's aware of biting insects. The flea is probably dead somewhere... but you try telling my nerve endings that.

So, while I'd planned to visit Uxbridge tomorrow, my first order of business will be vacuuming my room. God knows, it needs to be done. There are scone fragments scattered about under my desk that are at least a week old because I'm so bloody lazy about cleaning. It's not as if it's much effort, thanks to the wood tile floor, but for whatever reason, I always leave vacuuming too long... Partly, I suppose, because my mother occasionally claims to have vacuumed (carefully not mentioning that she's only done the couple of square metres of visible floor when the bed is down and the door is open), and it would feel rude to do it 'again' only a day or so later.

There's the plan, then. Wake up, shower, have breakfast, vacuum, go to Uxbridge. Possibly eat out... though it always feels rather pathetic to be eating out on my own.