Bugged

I’ve never been a fan of bugs, except spiders.  I like spiders because they trap other bugs.  They have a useful purpose.  Although, I don’t like when I walk into a spider’s web – especially at night with my mouth open.  Like me, when M gets a bug bite she rubs it until it swells.  On her pale skin, the welts look brutally painful.  She milks it too.

People always want to go hiking or camping.  While, I like the outdoors, I’m a runner, which means I run through the outdoors hopefully faster than bugs.  I’ve only been stung by a bee once.  It hurt like hell.

Last week while driving to work, I got a strange sensation behind my left knee.  I felt it and there were at least five bug bites.  I was a driving, window open, stereo blasting, too fast for bugs.  That night, I woke up in the middle of the night and there were five marks on my right inner arm.

The past few summers New York City has waged war with frustrating, small parasitic insects also known as beg bugs.  These adorable little creatures love to snack on blood.  They can live over a year without sucking but do prefer to drink your blood every few weeks.  They love dark corridors of fabric and attach themselves to clothes and luggage.  Stores, movie theaters, restaurants, and apartments have been attached.

I have no idea how I got the bedbugs.  The few people I approached about a possible causation reacted as if I’d accused them of giving me a venereal disease.  I would have too.  No one wants to be told they’d served as host for critters like these.

A bit of Internet research led me to learn that dogs are the best detectors of the creatures.  So I called a service but they couldn’t come for another day.  I found a service that could come right away, so I booked them.  In the mean time, I started doing loads of laundry in hot water with hot long dryer cycles.

It skived me out to no end.  Suddenly, everything itched.  My home felt invaded.  And, I’ve had houseguests who wouldn’t leave, slept naked, ate all my food, and smelt up the bathroom – not all at the same time.  But this was different.  I’d come home and slip into other clothes rushing what was worn into the shower.

The dog showed up with his female handler.  As the first sighting was in my car, I had them check it out.  The dog found lots of old food, but no bugs.  The downstairs was clean – which was good.  Even better, M’s room was clean.  My room however, the dog pawed at the bed which indicated bugs.  The handler gave him some food as a reward.  Now what she didn’t do was put on gloves and help detect if I actually had them.  Instead, she handed me an invoice for $325.  As I leaped into the car to go get mattress and pillow covers – she flagged me down requesting an additional $50.  The entire investigation took under ten minutes.  Her company did no remediation but could recommend someone.  I should have driven away, but she knew where I lived.

Frantically, I purchased stuff at the local hardware store like gloves and diatomaceous earth.  A friend said it was a natural cure to killing the bugs.  Of course, I had no idea where there actually were or even if they were truly there. Worse, I had M, which limited my ability to do much defense other than laundry.

The second dog team showed up in tandem with two south Jersey guys who looked like they spent a good deal of time in the gym, tanning, and doing laundry.  Their dog spotted the bugs on the other side of the bed this time by sitting.  He too was rewarded with food.  They at least inspected the mattress, although found nothing.  Their bill was $350 and they could remediate the situation by freezing the bugs for a cool $1,500.  Unfortunately, they couldn’t zap them for another week and a half.

Every aspect of my body itched.  No matter how many showers, I itched.  I was barely sleeping anticipating something crawling and leaching my blood.  I got a lot of laundry done and caught up on a tremendous amount of horrendous television.  So while I was killing brain cells, I was waiting for an attack.

At work a co-worker suggested calling Roscoe the bed bug beagle.  He has beagles and people thought he should train his dogs to detect them.  Given that I was into the bugs for at least $1,000 for defensive measures – including theoretical gas, electric, and bed covers – I was open to it.

I also called a national chain of exterminators and a local one.  The local one used chemicals, which I didn’t want M exposed too.  The national chain returned my call, took my address, and booked an appointment.  Then they called back and asked if I would pay in advance or pay the handler.  I said I’d pay the handler, they never called back.

Roscoe’s guy showed up with a big bag of stuff.  He whipped out a flashlight and started exploring the seams of fabric on my couch, chairs, and bedrooms.  He seemed skeptical about the bugs existence in my home, except for the dogs.  I told him that I’d seen a bug on a pillow but hadn’t saved it.  He performed an estimate standing in my living room saying he could never sit on the job for fear of giving someone bugs who didn’t have him.  Despite his company’s price, his integrity and offer to allow me to call him anytime over the weekend with questions – won him the business.

I was given an extensive pre-remediation checklist.  Everything into the laundry.  Books had to be vacuumed.  Clothes had to be placed in plastic bags.  Drawers emptied.  His team would come in and whip the furniture with freezing carbon dioxide.  I spent the weekend, atoning for whatever I’d done to attract the bugs and also going through my clutter.  Lots of toys, books, and clothes were donated.  Old papers were gone through.  Despite the stress, some good came from the expulsion of these items.

I went to pick up M on Friday night and locked us out of the house.  Luckily, I was spending the evening with cousins and they got us back inside.  Saturday, we prayed, hung out, and I did more cleaning.  Sunday, more of the same – with the prayer being please let this be a one and done treatment and then never again.

I don’t wish bugs on anyone.  I don’t even wish much ill will on anyone.  You don’t want these things.  You don’t want to discuss them.  You don’t want to share that you have them.  Even though anyone could get them from sitting on the wrong chair or traveling, don’t get them.

The dudes showed up, set up their CO2 and got to work blasting.  I debated getting rid of the wooden bed because the bugs must have nested and mated turning it into a paradise for themselves.  But the dudes said the CO2 and chemicals would eradicate them.  And I’d be protected by my mattress cover.  They meticulously zapped and sprayed every exposed inch of the bed, mattress, couch, chairs, bookcases, and perimeter of the rooms.

Their car had a fine looking beagle – Roscoe – on the spare tire.  The sides were adorned with all matter of bugs and letters spelling out my malady.  The neighbors stood agape in the schoolyard, avoiding eye contact or niceties.  M, of course, was asked if we had bed bugs and told the truth.

The after school lady asked me a million questions – how’d I detect them?  What do I do?  Her daughter lives in Brooklyn and works in publishing.  The mother is storing all sorts of stuff and wonders if they have bugs.  I told her to get mattress protectors and if she’s bit to let me know.  I’d give her Roscoe’s number.

Tonight, as the chemicals saturate, I’m writing from a spare bedroom away from my mattress and the bug corpses – breathing easier, feeling cleaner than I have in a week.  M is asleep in the next bed, resting innocently.  And, you’ll never hear me say don’t let the bedbugs bite because honestly you don’t want their chompers anywhere near you or your wallet.