My eyes are not symmetrical and the right one has a wrinkle above the brow, from where I’m constantly raising it. I’m okay with that wrinkle, since it proves that I’m inquisitive and even little bit (I dare say) sexy. Through beer goggles, of course.

Thanks, Miss. I did need a new project.

• Pick two or three veggies that combine well with potatoes. I typically use yellow (preferably) nugget potatoes - though white or red would be fine, too - and tonight I let Isobel pick the other guys, sugar snap peas and baby carrots.
• Prep all veggies as needed: for me, that means cutting some in half for toddler malleability. And washing, of course.
• Toss taters in a large pot and cover with water, then boil solo until about half done (just maybe 7 minutes? Fork it, to see). Add carrots. When carrots are almost perfect, add in snap peas.
• Drain after about 4 minutes - you don’t want the peas soggy at all; brilliant green and orange should be in your pot.
• Toss pot back on a cold element with about 2 Tbsp. of butter and drained veggies. Stir to coat.
• Add in just enough peppercorn ranch dressing to coat the veggies and stir again, after you’ve also added some red pepper flakes. And if you’re going hardcore, some parmesan cheese? But I didn’t.
• Give to child asking for a "sanaaaack."
• Smile with smugness at how she just devoured two cups of veggies (and you did, too), without one teensy whine or complaint.

The night before, I took an outside marinating steak - about 8 inches around and half an inch thick - and I marinated it in a combo of 2Tbsp olive oil, 1Tbsp tamari, 2tsp garlic powder and 1/2tsp cumin. After a coupla hours, I flipped it so that all edges got a sponge bath in the salty, oily goodness.

Today, I cubed that steak, coarsely chopped half a medium yellow onion and 4 cloves of garlic and let it sit and marinate together for another hour.

Toss that in a large pot on just above medium for the onions to soften and the meat to cook almost all the way through. Don’t worry about stirring too much - I never do - you know, the whole ADD factor…

While that’s browning up and starting to smell real damn good, toss some washed baby carrots and yellow nugget potatoes in a cereal bowl - yes, that’s how I measured it. We want a nice rounded pile o’ veggie goodness.

Once the meat was nearly done, I added around three cups of water and the veggie pile and turned up the heat to cook everything fast for about 10 minutes, covered. Then let it simmer for a halfer. The water should just barely cover the bulk of the ingredients upon boiling time - too much and you’ll be reducing for half an hour, leaving veggies soggy and meat gray. And, ew?

Potatoes cooked through, carrots a glorious shade of orange, I’m ready to congeal with my bad self. Measuring cup and fork, 2/3 cup of warm water, 2 heaping Tbsp whole wheat flour and 1/2tsp cayenne or red pepper flakes and I’ve got liquid stew gold. Poured it on top of the already almost gravy, mixed it around a bit and thinned it to the consistency I desired - adding about 4Tbsp warm water.

And what does it taste like? Winter, sans your Aunt Esther with the hairy mole on her face. What is it missing? Less cooking on the ‘taters (they got a little mushy, as they always do for me) and some black pepper. And maybe a nice herbed, cheese foccacia bread to go with?

I am hyper-vigilant about this stuff now, short of vacuuming 20 times a day - vacuuming what, though? I have 450 square feet, of which 20 has shown to be an issue. And I cannot find the little buggers (ha), it’s been bites on my alone since I’ve stopped: allowing Isobel contact with my bed (before last night, that is), or putting anything down on it.

We’ve been treated three times - twice with steam and last Tuesday with fumigation. Tomorrow will be our fourth treatment, reportedly to kill anything that might’ve hatched after the last fumigation and well, I’ll be honest - last night was not entirely bourne of sleepiness.

It was an experiment. I haven’t been bitten since last Wednesday and I figured that since Isobel has had no problem with having bites when she’s gotten them in the past, if she’d been bitten last night cuz they’re not all dead or gone, then she’d be A-OK with it.

Nothing bit her. Not a spec on her darker-than-mine skin. And so I got up this morning, thinking that maybe this is going to turn out okay. And maybe they’ll be killed and I won’t be feeling crawling sensations 24 hours a day anymore, or get new bites that will scar, or have to throw out my bed. Maybe it will all be okay.

And maybe, after all, I could make this place work for us. Maybe I could move my soon-to-be-no-longer-infested-even-a-little-bit bed into Isobel’s little room and take all of the toys out to the living room. And I could have an actual bedroom - one that I share with her, but you know, it’s not like I actually do anything in bed that I wouldn’t want her to see (that’s what the bathroom is for *wink wink*) - and an actual living room not 50% occupied by a bed.

Oh, a glorious, bug-free existence! Just might be better than the Valium I’ve been craving.

Oh, who the eff am I kidding? I’m so buying a new bed, once I know the place is clean. Shudder.

After that, I spent a good hour scrubbing my bathroom from top to bottom. I reorganized, threw out miscellaneous unused products and finally laid down my new toe-gasm inducing bath rug. My fabulous new white and black shower curtain got hung, the chrome is sparkling and a final mop up with my favourite household cleaning product - Swiffer wet cloths, scented with Febreeze Lavender and Vanilla - has given it a fresh breath of air.

All I need now for the bathroom to be as complete as it’s going to get? A nice towel rack and 3-tiered shower caddy. And the following:

My friend, HCM might be moving and asked me if I want her apartment. It’s almost $200 more a month but it’s huge. It’s bright. It has some fucking countertops and cupboards. And no mice or bedbugs. I’m considering it.

This place has been such an issue from day one and it’s further been perverted by the information of our bedbug control specialist saying, "Yup, there’s one. See him? Down by the wall’s baseboard. And now there’s signs on your boxspring of activity."

And the emergence of new bug bites after she treated my bed and Isobel’s again - both of which had no bugs, casings, or fecal matter except for right where she found the one lazy little fucker.

She’s convinced they’re coming in from a neighbouring apartment, since I have no infestation signs.

There’s a laundry list of issues that are not being addressed properly and worse is the fact that I spoke to a neighbour way at the other end of the hallway today and she said her suite had never even been inspected when the suite 10 feet from her had them. She was never informed, even. And her new roommate just moved in a brand new bed last night, fresh from the wrapper - only to discover two bugs a few hours later.

So I consulted the tenancy office in my province about my options and they advised that I write a letter with the full-blown complaints. And then if the landlord does not address those complaints, I have the backup to file against them in a tenancy court, looking for reduced rent, the ability to move without a lease-breaking penalty and potentially damages.

So, I’ve got a letter to write this evening.

Moving out of the old apartment showed me something: I’ve lived in a relative pigsty. Not intentionally, maybe, but surface cleaning - doing the bare minimum - didn’t help me much when it came time to get really down and undirty. I spent hours scouring, wiping, mopping up until the move-out inspection. And honestly, I didn’t even tackle some areas, figuring they were good enough to pass.

So I’ve moved into this (not so, anymore) new place. And I was told that I wasn’t allowed to paint it on my own, but that the entire suite would be painted an neutral colour and cleaned. It wasn’t, entirely, and it isn’t.

Two weekends ago, I spent almost two hours washing the one area in Isobel’s room that her window is part of. Toothbrush in hand, I scrubbed at the joints where glass met metal, where metal met sill and where sill met wall. I had to throw away two super duper resilient toothbrushes after that. I went through a roll of papertowels. The room was unpainted, the baseboards covered in some stains and dust.

This is clean?

Today, I started to tackle the bathroom, knowing that I’d find similar results. An hour and a half later, I was once again questioning what work had been done by the prior tenant or by the management.

After partying with the bathtub and tiles, which appeared clean enough to bathe Isobel in, I was left with a bowl of black water. The pipes under the sink? Covered in dust and dirty, steam-induced sendament.

That’s five minutes of someone else’s mess that I shouldn’t have to deal with.

The tiling surrounding the tub, that runs along the bottom of the walls? Shiny, but paint splattered now, whereas they were dusty and stained before.

Another ten minutes.

There’s still some elbow grease to be applied in the bathroom - obsessive compulsive that I am - before I’m prepared to put up my new shower curtain and fluff out my gorgeous-feeling bath mat.

But it’s coming along. And I’m so looking forward to the time - after the kitchen and rest of Isobel’s room is pristinely clean - that I can clean up dirt, stains and pee that only I’ve left behind.

We’re getting fumigated in the morning. For the first time. Sigh.

When she got out of bed this morning, the rashes had become huge in diameter, swollen bug bites. Oh, [expletive deleted]. And I had three bug bites on my shoulder. Double oh, [expletive deleted].

But do you know what today was? Apartment inspection day.

And did you know that they have bed bug sniffing dogs? That can find a dead or alive bug or it’s larvae as well at their counterpart can a gram of coke? I didn’t either.

We weren’t here. We didn’t see it go down, but we got the report when we were home.

Not. A. Single. Thing. Found.

They looked in every corner, under all the baseboards, the beds, the toys, the stuffies and not a bed bug was sniffed.

Phew.

Now, does this mean that we have fleas…and should I buy us collars?