We have guests.
We've known for about a month that poor Deacon is a flea-magnet. We finally got the right flea medication, so hopefully the hundreds of thousands of flea eggs will be zapped.
But we have a new infestation. Termites. And not just hidden in the beautiful wooden cathedral ceilings where we can't see them. They have "swarmed," which means they come pouring out of the holes they have bored and lay dying all over the carpet.
Of course I didn't know what they were; I'm from OHIO, and while termites are not unheard of, they do not really frequent the subdivisions of Northeast Ohio. I had an inkling, so before I called the church trustees I image-googled "termites."
I came right to a picture of what we have. Accompanied by a story of flesh-eating termites which supposedly devoured a person to the bones. Gulp.
Last night we considered the possibility of waking up fleshless- but then I realized the irony of worrying about termites when we live with a pit bull. (This is only funny if you know that Deacon is the wimpiest, least-aggressive dog imaginable. He's a neutered mutt, which counteracts any inherited bloodthirst.)
We still have our flesh this morning, though the termites are still pouring out of the ceiling. Supposedly this will be over in a day or so. Blech.