So I went about opening boxes with my blog post in my head and then...well, let's go back into the stream of consciousness, shall we?
- Oh look, a bug on the bed.
- I'm going to kill it.
- Sigh. After the roach problem in the last apartment (completely unrelated to our housekeeping and completely related to the construction in the apartment below ours that chased them all up to our place, combined with too infrequent visits from the building's exterminator), I never wanted to see a roach again.
- Where'd it go?
- Its on the floor now.
- Boy, it's moving fast.
(Before we moved into that apartment, I was a strict catch and releaser. But we were on the 7th floor and had roachageddon going on. Towards the end, I had a rolled up magazine called the Bug Smacker (as in Cletis, bring me my bug smacker.)
- Hey, that dead bug doesn't look like a roach.
- Oh fuck, that is not what I think it is.
- To the internet!
- Thank all the Gods and Goddesses that we have one neighbor with an unsecure wireless network. I'm so grateful, that I'll stop thinking of them as dumb and start thinking of them as generous. I wish I could send them a thank you note.
- OK, assholes, when I google how to identify motherfucking BEDBUGS, show me a picture. This is not the time to be dicking around with me.
- Image search.
I'll leave off the story here for now. I need to approach this in small bits. It was so traumatic that I couldn't even come up with an appropriate Facebook status, even though FB statuses now pop up in my mind unbidden all day long. That, plus I didn't want to admit to being unclean even though I know several people who have had them.
So as not to leave you in suspense, I'll just say that I had a nervous breakdown for a few days, but I'm feeling much better now. Better than I have in ages, in fact. It's like the lack of stress hormones feels better than any infusion of happy hormones.
The story continues soon.