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| An altogether misleading introduction to the phenomenon |
I can deal with a bug bite. I'll live, I've got rubbing alcohol. Hauling out ten crates full of crap at two in the morning on a week night? That'll kill me. Doing again in two weeks - or living out of a suitcase for two weeks - stresses me way more than possibly finding a pinhead sized critter on my pillow. Not to mention, the thought of sleeping on a bed full of creepy crawlies freaks me less than sleeping on one filled with noxious chemicals.
Seriously, nothing the bugs did were as bad as what I had to do to get rid of them.
And it's not even over yet! The guy's got to come back in two weeks to get the eggs. Hurrah!
Hamilton Health Services say reports of bed bug infestations in Hamilton have gone up 600% in recent years, for no particular reason. They're everywhere, they're relentless, they're indestructible - or may as well be. They strike at night and disappear with the morning light. They lurk just out of sight. They bite your flesh and drink your blood, and leave a distinctive mark. Sound familiar?
Actually, the zombie hordes would be a better analogy. The endless wave of sharp toothed drones coming, coming, coming for you. . .
Poetry aside, what it's like to live through a bed bug infestation? I'm glad you asked! (and aren't you glad you did?)
It is not called an "infestation" for nothing. They infest the most private, intimate part of your living space, where you tend to be at your most vulnerable. It's an invasion, a violation. A pollution, a desecration.
Bed bugs are carnivorous. They survive on blood. Your blood. I am not at all squeamish around bugs, really I'm not. But waking up to find yourself being eaten is really not nice.
It's gross. You feel nasty.
Like someone just spat in your face or peed in your shoe. You want to scrape a
layer of skin off, or maybe bathe in bleach. And the thing is, you don't just
feel dirty - you feel defeated. You try to keep a clean house, you seemingly
spend every waking hour washing dishes, doing laundry or scrubbing surfaces.
Maybe it wasn't a palace of polished marble from a Listerine commercial, but
for God's sake it was a hygienic little hole. And the little buggers still got
in. The Husky Pest Control service take pains to assure victims: “A bedbug infestation does not mean you keep
n untidy home or that you live in unfit conditions” which is nice of them to
say, but it doesn't feel any better.
The stigma doesn't help. Real
or imagined, there's disdain on every face, leery you may carry a contaminating
egg in your pant cuff or collar, and who's to say you aren't? To the leper
colony with you!
Then there's the unsolicited advice.
You ought to do this, you really ought to do that. You have to do B, you
mustn't do D. Such tidbits are almost never helpful, and larger just offer more
complications to stress over. The fact is, you're doing the best you can in an
unwinnable situation, and really wish they'd just shut the fuck up.
So what of the process itself? First
off, your sleep is ruined. You are quite awake at that point. You'll
probably want to destroy your sheets. Not that it's required or even
recommended, but will you really still want them after that? Stick your clothes
into the freezer. Apparently the buggers don't like the cold. Clear out your
ice cream and stick in everything your want to wear the next day. At times like
these winter can be an unexpected blessing, as you can stick everything into a
garbage bag and leave it on your balcony over night - but it was an uncommonly
warm September for me, so that little bonus was unavailable.
But even with these precautions, you
will need to call the pros. And you will need to clear everything out for them.
This is not something you can do yourself - ever wonder how many nooks and
crannies are in a one-bedroom apartment? Try counting them. Including the
electrical outlets. You can't get them all yourself. But even if you could, if
you and the equipment and the time and the patience and the knowledge, you'd
still have to clear everything out. You need a practically empty apartment. Not
your furniture - that's what needs to get sprayed - but your clothes, your
books, your embroidery, your papers, your toys, your laptop - your stuff.
Anything that makes the place feel lived in.
Preparing for a bug spray is like
getting evicted. You've got three days to throw everything into a box and git!
Where’s it all go? You can’t just
pile it up in the middle of the room, so where do all those boxes go? The
balcony? The bathtub? The trunk of the car? Yes, yes and yes. Of course, your
only real solution is to have family or friends with a largely empty garage.
Otherwise you are quite SOL.
Packing up your entire worldly
existence in a hurry, certain things are bound to happen. You are guaranteed to
knock a large box of screws, thumbtacks, paperclips, or something equally small
and inconvenient onto the floor. You are guaranteed to need something at the
bottom of your very first box. You will definitely forget where you put
something incredibly important, and will be unable to relocate something you
need immediately.
You will finish late at night. You
will make many trips up and down the elevator.
You will wonder if it’s all worth
it. I mean, clearing out your entire
existence for a couple of ruined sheets? I’m willing to bet most will have their
doubts.
Taking down the curtains was the
worst part. Not just because they’re a pain in the arse to take down, but
because I live across the street from another large apartment complex, and
without my curtains, everybody can see everything, from the balcony to the
kitchen. “Hello world, step inside, here’s my life, on full public display!” Even
the most spotlight hogging actor needs to occasionally hide behind the curtain.
When they come down, your privacy completely dissolves; your sense of this
little hole in the wall as your private sanctuary, retreat, refuge, nest, lair,
your place – is blown wide open. It
is no longer possible to shut out the world, or shield yourself from it. All
you’ve got is an empty room with a great big window.
And the really fun part? You can’t
put anything back once the spraying’s done: you gotta wait for them to come
back and do it all again! At some unspecified future date.
I believe the company’s name is GODOT. . .
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