"Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite!"
Cute, right? I've used it since then myself. Until I the Leonard Lopate show on NPR the other day did a whole episode on the darn nocturnal bloodsuckers, as there has been a resurgence in New York. Yes, for the first time in sixty years there is a bedbug infestation in New York City.
Out of curiosity, I went online and found
You know what happens when someone starts talking about bugs? You immediately start imagining them crawling all over you. A tickle here, a twitch there. Now imagine that paranoia in your bed at night. Now imagine that you feel a twitch at five am, turn on the light, and find one.
Oh, the horror. The shame, the guilt, the self-loathing. The next hour was spent ripping my bedroom to pieces, needing to search out the extent of my problem. I found two more, and subsequently their home, which actually is in the molding on my bedroom wall. I guess they like wood more than beds. Surprising, but relieving. So I sprayed the hell out of their evil lair.
Now I have to go through a three month process to safeguard myself from any little bedbug babies coming back to avenge the death of their parents. More laundry, more chemicals to poison the hell out of the little bastards, potentially more bites. Luckily they are not harmful, just annoying and gross. (Oh crap, did I just pull a bright side out of this? God I have issues.)
Slowly I have to get over the embarrassment of this whole thing, and even though they came through my wall I can't help but feel like it reflects on my cleanliness. This may be one of the few things in my life I am genuinely embarrassed about.
And I'm sharing with all of you. Brilliant.
Anyhoo, part of the fun of this lies in the fact that I can't have guests over for a while. Including the boy toy kind. Cause sure as heck I'm not bringing any boys home with me to get eaten.
By the bugs, I mean. Geez, get your minds out of the gutter.