Bad Gas Karma (Suzanne Forster)

I'm writing this from the most sterile of all possible environments. No, not a hospital operating room. Not a scientific laboratory orbiting in deep space, either. It's my HOME. We've been fumigated for termites.

Now, keep in mind that no one around here has set eyes on a termite in years, but apparently that's beside the point. Our homeowner's association has a contract with a fumigation company, and every few years, we get fumigated whether we need it or not.

So, we just got back from the motel where we've been marooned for the last five days while untold termites met their fate, and it's, well, sterile in here. Even Mandy, the Cat, is disoriented. She's exploring and sniffing everything, determined to figure out where the heck she is. I'm trying to encourage her not to sniff too deeply and breathe in the Vikane gas they used to fumigate. Trust me, if it can kill termites it can kill anything. And did, apparently. There's no sign of life in here, not even the flotilla of tiny black fruit flies that so loved my vine-ripened tomatoes-and I thought fruit flies were indestructible.

My home! What's happened to my happy home? It really does resemble an operating room. Other than the leaves and twigs that blew in when the fumigation crew opened the place up to air it out, I've never seen it so bare and uncluttered. All the indoor plants were moved to safety before we left and it's too soon to move them back in. The cupboards are bare, and all of our food, even the provisions in the freezer, is double bagged in material that's supposed to be impenetrable. At some point I should open the bags and check for survivors.

The fumigation company has stringent safety rules. They have a long list of items that must be bagged, and they charge $100 for every unbagged item they find. I grabbed a loose package of Stimudents as we were on our way out the door. Phew, close call. You'd think all that preparation would be enough to ensure human safety. But, maybe not. We returned to a small pile of newspapers in the driveway, and as I opened today's edition, I saw a front-page article about a local condo complex. They've refused to have their units fumigated with the same chemicals just used on our place.

Several residents claim that sulfuryl fluoride, from which Vikane is made, is unsafe. Apparently it's regulated by the state and federal governments and will soon be listed as a toxic air contaminant. It's also being reviewed to see if current regulations are sufficient. The condo owners are insisting on an alternate treatment method, such as heat.

This was not good news to me. I've already had one close encounter with odorless, colorless gas this year. That was result of a malfunctioning heat exchanger in a furnace in the family condo in Olympia. The gas was carbon monoxide, which sounds a lot friendlier than Vikane, but it's also deadly. Apparently I have bad gas Karma.

As a precaution, we've decided to dispose of all the bagged food and anything else that can be ingested, like salt and pepper, sugar cubes, teabags, even vitamins, and we're washing all the bagged bed clothing, linens and towels. What fun.

But, hey, no more termites. I am curious about something, though. If it's too soon for the plants to be brought back inside then what are we humanoids doing in here? Maybe Allan read the printed instructions wrong? I can only hope. The fumigation crew assured us they use precisely calibrated machines to monitor gas levels, and no one's allowed back inside until it's safe. I wonder if anyone told them that Vikane is now a toxic air contaminant.

That "pet suite" at the Ramada Inn is starting to look good to me. That's where Mandy and I stayed during the fumigation. The dh couldn't join us, except for visits, because he's allergic to cats in small places. Probably just as well. Mandy's still a bit nervous around him. Mandy's nervous around everything. It's part of her charm. We call her Fuss, short for Fuss Budget. Did I mention that I inherited her from my mom? Like mother, like kitty.

Actually, there are some benefits to living in a motel, even with a nervous cat. I didn't have Internet access or any of my favorite cable TV stations, so I got lots of reading done, one of my guilty pleasures. Also, I did some shopping and found a pair of white flat sandals. Have you shopped for white sandals lately? They don't exist here in the land of beaches and sunshine. I've spent the last two summers searching for a pair. These are Naturalizers, known for their comfort and beauty, a coup.

And now that we're home, Mandy's fine, and I'm the one who's nervous. The newspaper headlines didn't help. But we have a plan. We'll continue to take shallow breaths, keep the windows and doors flung wide for the next couple of days-and be very grateful we don't live in Minnesota.

Suz