Fleas Are Not For Humans

Where to start. I have fleas. Yes fleas. Not mosquito bites, or spider bites, or bed bugs... I have fleas, fleas which happen to be eating me in my sleep. My stomach. My back. My arm pits. My neck. My wrists. That's where fleas bite. I'm learning so much so quickly. 

The worst part is, that as I learned that what my problem is, is in fact fleas, all of Ollantaytambo lost power. Most market shops closed, including the ones selling flea killing spray. Also washing machines can't run, exactly when you're being told to wash nearly all of your clothes. Any clothes you've worn since getting bitten, any clothes you wore while getting bitten, any material that has touched the clothes you wore while or after being bitten. So all of my clothes. Since I've been keeping pajamas and used but not yet dirty clothes in one suitcase folded like drawers. All my clothes. And my sheets. And blankets. Some blankets are too thick to be washed. So those need to be sprayed. 

I also found all of this out while the sun was setting. I washed all the clothes I could fit on the line on the roof by hand, though I'm not sure if that counts in the 'defleaing' process. 

But I'm still in the clothes I'm in, and haven't showered, because well, I'm just going to have to put fresh clothes on and hop into bed tonight to await my fate of more bites. 

I didn't sleep all night last night; I knew I was being eaten alive; I knew something malicious was happening. I thought it was bedbugs. I kept waking up and telling myself it was just a dream. Until I woke up to my stomach covered in large, swollen, itchy spots, and slowly began to locate the rest of them as well. Ugh.

With the power out there is no light in my room. So even if I wanted to cozy up and read or spend time at home, I can't see my hand in front of my face. I'm itchy and only bound to get itchier. I can't bring myself to lay down. I've been walking all over the town just trying to find a place to sit long enough to type this. A bench in the plaza is serving me quite well. 

I'm cold from doing laundry after dark by hand. I'm itchy. I'm in itch inducing clothes. I'm sleeping in a flea infested bed. I want to shower. I want to fumigate my room. I want to wash my sheets in a machine to really rattle their evil blood sucking souls. I want to be warm. I want to not be sitting alone, outside, on a bench, in public, in the cold. And let's face it- I want internet.

Oh and I want to not have fleas.

Once I tear apart and fumigate my room I have to leave it with the door shut all day to soak-in I suppose you could say. So even if I take care of this tomorrow, I'll be homeless for my first real day off I've had in a long while. 

(Definitely not) The worst part is that I likely got fleas from a dog, my family has a dog, lovingly named Bobo. Bobo is cute, but he does bring friends around. And now I look at Bobo among all other dogs of Ollanta with putrid disgust. And as I hate dogs, I hate myself for hating dogs, but dogs gave me fleas. Me. A human. I'm not supposed to have fleas. Not that they enjoy it much I'm sure, but like, vets have created great methods of preventing dogs from getting fleas, humans? Nothing. 

I've never had the chicken pox but I imagine it's much like having fleas. Painful, extremely itchy spots all over your body, that itch so badly that you can't sleep? Yep.

When's the last time you went to the travel doctor and they said oh be warned of the fleas, also here's a little gel you can rub on the back of your neck and you'll be safe and protected from fleas. Never. Because fleas are for dogs. Street dogs that aren't bathed and run around and get muddy and shit in the middle of the street and rub all up against each other with their fleas. Fleas are not for humans. 

I repeat: fleas are not for humans. 

07/07/17