Today's topic is bed bugs comma the extermination of.
Woe unto me, I picked up this attractive little pestilence on the Fourth of July because I got drunk and went home with someone the night before, let's not discuss it. We're still dating. Whatever, I'm on it. A few days later: "Wow, I itch! Look at all these funny bumps. If I have scabies again, I'm going to kick his ass." Well when it didn't go away, I saw a young doctor (my insurance kicked in, YAY) and she told me "You have bed bugs." And I said "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over your nose ring. Did you say bed bugs?" Well at least it wasn't scabies.
Ah, how naive. Now I pray nightly for scabies because bed bugs are so much horrider! Apparently I took one or two home that day, and they've been living in my house and liberally feeding on some of my fleshier areas. I had to call an exterminator, and he came Wednesday morning, which I also took off from work. Right, so he comes SUPER early in the morning because I guess his job doesn't suck enough so his company says he has to start work at 7 a.m. Fine whatever, I wanted him out, so the earlier the better. He proceeds to tear my entire house apart, checks every crack in the floors, all my corners and cabinets and bookshelves. He removes my mattress and flips over my bed (he is very strong) and wow, great, he didn't find any bugs anywhere. But he found "evidence" of them, which is ok because I had already. I knew they were there. Apparently not seeing any bugs is good, though, because it means there aren't very many. So I have concluded that I have 3 because I think that is a good number. I named them Lavergne, Cynthia, and Mariposa in the hopes that they are all female and will not reproduce.
So we locked up my retarded cat and he sprayed everywhere with this stinky wet stuff and I actually fell asleep on the couch until he kicked me off. In all, the exterminator got to see the weird yuck at the bottom of my sink, the dirty litter box, the furry couch, my book on anal sex that I forgot to hide (I didn't buy it, don't be ridiculous, someone left it on the recycle bin downstairs where the communal leave-your-book-here area is), and my dirty underwear which he actually touched. Whatever, who cares, I shower.
Oh, and there's no guarantee the bugs are gone because they're such good hiders. And I won't know for a while because the bites I already have will continue to itch and the ones I got before might take a day or two to show up.
It's disgusting. Just imagine for a moment going to sleep at night knowing with 100% certainty that a blood-sucking insect is going to feed on you in a matter of hours. Needless to say, I haven't slept well in two weeks, though I have some security now that my exterminator has been through.
Oh, but wait... it cost me $460. There goes my Paris vacation.
So don't get bed bugs. Don't ever go home with anyone. And try not to touch anyone ever again either. It's the only way to be safe.
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