The other day I saw a scurrying form in the bedroom. I took it to be a beetle and went to bed. I leave the window open and there is no screen, bugs can get in. Today I confirmed the fear that was ignored at the time. BEDBUGS.
The plan was simple, go for a nap. The simplest plan there is really. Since it was bright out I used the other wise entirely decorative curtains above the head of the bed to shade me some. Sleep has been in short supply thanks to the heat and early mornings. There is a lot of early morning sun here, it is not a bad thing but it keeps me from getting all the hours I could want. So colour me shocked, and very much awake when a creepy crawly falls from my personal blackout curtain to my face. It came to a rest on my pillow. The nap was canceled.
It was flat, reddish black, segmented and it had a family and a collection of moulted exoskeletons. An act of science was committed on to it, the abdomen released evidence of its feeding, in a long red stain. So now I have an ugly problem. I need to kill them, kill them all. I can't do that all today.
The offending curtains were double bagged in plastic in the vain hope that that was the main home. But that will not be good enough. I know I saw some crawl into the mouldings. This is a situation that requires chemical warfare, it is a situation that requires professional chemical warriors.
I write this not to tell the news that I have a pest problem. Facebook already knows that. This is a proactive counter attack. Not against the bugs but against my brain. In the winter of 2013 and 2014, during my cat's recovery fleas got into the house. And worse into my brain, this during the worst of my unemployment. It ate at me. Anxiety and depression played with my vivid imagination, all this against a pest that never fed off me. Now I have spots on my pillow that point to my entry into the food chain. So I write to fight from them taking over my brain. So, faced with the option of anxiety and depression, or anger and action I am going to try for anger. I am not good at anger, never thought it was safe to play with, but when directed at the world, not people, it has value.
I don't want anxiety to eat at me taking away what little capacity I have to function as an adult. As a deeply underemployed bachelor work and self care eat too much time and leave me with little money. A few things are different from the flea war. One I like the apartment. Where the old place dragged me down with its crumbling darkness, this place is bright with cheap but new repairs, the balcony alone brings pleasure. So I want to fight to get this apartment back into a state where I feel clean and safe. To do that I am going to have push myself, I am not going to like it, not at first. I will have to ask for favours, an act I hate. I don't know what shape the favours will take, but to keep moving forward and to keep it from eating my brain I will have to. So I admit that I will in as yet undefined ways be needing help and support to make sure I win this war.
AND WAR WERE DECLARED.