Aaaaaaaaaaargh!

Okay, we're a week from vacation departure. One week. Seven days. Yup. The way things are going, we may never come back from said vacation.

1. The Vermin Issue. No, not mice again, that's done. The unit of this block of townhouses furthest from me (as in 4 units between mine and it) has bedbugs. So, first I had to make a last-minute request to my (wonderful, obliging, accommodating, perfect angel of a lifesaving paragon) house-sitting lady to have her supervise the inspection the management company insisted had to be done since Icould not blow off my shift. Result - NO presence of bedbugs in my townhouse. Now the management company has informed us we all must allow exterminators in our homes, and must move all furniture away from the walls, empty all closets, etc. In brief, I am being ordered to tear my house apart before Friday morning so that a toxic chemical (probably Diazanon) can be applied to my beds, furniture, and all over the baseboards. For what?

According to the health care region's housing regulations, this is not required, since my unit does not touch the infested one. So, I am trying to get in touch with one of the Lawyer Referral's members to advise me on how to tell the management company to go pound sand - their document says they will have a locksmith open my door if I do not allow them access.

2. Toxic Boss Strikes Again. I have been summoned for my annual evaluation this Thursday afternoon. Oh, joy.

Countering that, though, is the fact that I am having an interview for the position I applied for on Friday morning at ten. Yahoo!!!!!

3. Flaky Villa Owner. Yes, the same twit who has been paid a hefty amount for us to rent her property in France and then listed that property for sale on the internet, her again. She has informed our travel agent that, contrary to what we were told all along, she will probably not be meeting us at the villa when we arrive - she may have to be in London that week. Oh, she'll leave the key under the flowerpot by the door. WTF?????

4. Machinations of a Manipulative Ukranian Mother. Since the boyfriend has let the maternal unit know we're leaving town in a week, she has played the "may be a medical emergency" card. All of a sudden boyfriend gets an email from her announcing that his paternal unit is not looking well and has to go see the doctor sooner rather than later. Thank the Deities that they're in another province! We are now screening calls.

Please send good thoughts on our behalfs - that we survive all of this and get safely away to the Côte d'Azur!