Last Friday, Sonia discovered that Iris had a case of head lice. Saturday morning, the two of them loaded the car with every towel, sheet, blanket, and article of clothing they have (which, granted, didn't amount to very much, but still). Sonia spent the day camped out at the laundromat, while Iris was under strict instructions to stay inside. (An entire day alone in an empty apartment. It's a wonder this girl isn't totally insane.)
Saturday night, Iris got her first RIT treatment; Sunday she got a second one. (I'm actually surprised Sonia didn't just treat the lice with lavender oil and cleansing breaths and an additional ten rounds of toe-tapping, though she might have used all these as well.)
Iris also got a haircut, poor thing. Her bob-with-bangs is now a kind of pixie-ish boy cut. She looks like Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby, very overdue for a trim. Also, with severe bedhead. Also, with a bunch of random longer hairs that got missed. I think I'm going to ground Sonia for doing such a sloppy job.
(Okay, she doesn't really look like Mia Farrow at all. I just told her that to make her feel better. Of course, she had never heard of Mia Farrow, so on one of her secret visits I showed her a film still online. "Did she get really rich and famous?" she asked. She seemed pleased with the comparison.)
Ha ha ha, right? I mean, could the universe have come up with a crueler joke to play on such an unpleasant OCD-bedeviled woman? Sonia's daughter--lice! It's funny!
Except for one thing. I'm not convinced Iris ever had lice in the first place. It's entirely plausible that Sonia imagined the entire thing, after observing Iris scratching her scalp for half a second at dinner time.
The roach colony I let loose in their kitchen while they were away over the break? Now that's for real.
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