Slugging it Out

We brought out our toughest, most dangerous weapon: the Exterminator. Risking my mortal health and the well-being of our cats, we allowed a man with a canister full of poison and a reckless disregard for the delicate nature of cashmere sweaters full access to our apartment. Again.

You see, the last time didn't take. The insecticide must have really hulked them out, because they bit us up with a vengeance and took no pains to hide their gross presence in the light of day. I count 36 bites. And because I am allergic to insect venom, they are big, splashy red welts. Because bedbugs offer pitiful amounts of venom, it's just enough to make me miserable, without warranting any Epi-Pen action or trips to the ER.

So he was back today. If our super-aggro efforts to rid ourselves of this pestilence fails we will have little choice but to move.

Please, New Yorkers, do NOT imagine yourself immune from this scourge. It has nothing to do with cleanliness or the right address. If they can't get to you to feed, they won't bother infesting your place.

Here's what you must do:

1. Buy a bed with a metal or plastic frame. They cannot fly or jump, and they can't crawl up slick materials. Also, they adore nesting in miniscule cracks and crannies in wooden beds.

2. Keep your bed well away from walls and other furniture, so that it is an island of cool, clean, bug-free goodness.

3. Don't allow your bed linens to drape all the way to the floor.

4. VACUUM

5. Caulk or tape up cracks in the moulding, floors, windows, and pipe fittings.

6. Rid your home of clutter, especially in closets. Invest in space bags. Dry cleaning bags are useless at keeping out bugs, especially carpet beetles, which find them delicious.

7. Don't necessarily kill spiders or centipedes: they eat the little nasties and leave you the hell alone.

That is all. Keep your fingers crossed that a second round of poison didn't render our bedbugs super bedbugs.

Pestilence (warning: gross)

Bedbugs. Here's proof positive that even clean-living, Ikea-lovin', elfa-shelving urban dwellers are easy victims to the scourge of bedbugs.

We thought we did everything right. We tsk-tsk'd at Maya Rudolph suing her landlord over an infestation and went to sleep every night with self-satisfied smiles, knowing our cleanliness and organization would keep us safe from all little piece of shit bugs.

Except...we live in a mulit-unit apartment building in New York City, populated with all kinds of people who may or may not know that used mattresses are a spectacularly bad idea. Except our super tells us stories of our neighbors slovenliness, i.e. the chicken in the bathtub.

We went online after the first bites, hoping it was just fleas from the new kitten. A trip to the vet discounted that idea. We started each day with an inventory: "Any new bites today?" They are itchy, gigantic red blotches. Worse than the bites, even, is the constant "creepy-crawly" sensation and the shame. We wear long-sleeved shirts and try not to scratch at the dozens of itchy fucking welts. We consider setting fire to the place.

We tore the apartment apart, vacuuming every inch of everything, taping down cracks, zipping the bed into protective bags, setting out double-stick tape traps to confirm the presence of little johnny appleseed fuckers. Over the weekend, we hit pay dirt. Three blood-filled bedbugs made their ugly appearance and were promptly introduced into (separate, as to discourage breeding) ziploc bags for evidentiary purposes.

Now, if your home becomes infested with bedbugs you have exactly three choices:
1. Do nothing,
2. Take extremely aggressive measures, or
3. Move and start over from scratch — take nothing with you.

Our landlord went ballistic when I called. There's clearly been a big problem in the building and she decided it was all my fault. You see, we don't let the exterminator in to the apartment when we're here because I am extremely allergic to insecticide -- two terrifying trips to the ER after previous exposures convinced me not to press my luck anymore. But they are welcome to come on in when we're gone for the weekend, and we are frequently gone for the weekend. Anyway, this management company representative was quick to assign blame to me for the infestation. Nice! I think we'll skip right to option #3.

Maybe, instead of chemical insecticides that will potentially kill me along with the bedbugs, we should go out in search of more house centipedes. They apparently feast on roaches and bedbugs, I've learned. They can, but don't, bite humans. I can stand the grotesquely undulating sight of multiple centipedes zooming around the apartment if it means no more bedbugs, you know?

Ah, fuck. Maybe it's a just sign that it's time to move the fuck out of New York City.

Why it’s Easy for a Bipolar Person to Blend in NYC

• Everyone on the street hears voices. It’s called Bluetooth.
• Hallucinations, Part I: Bugs. Unfortunately, there very well can be (bed)bugs crawling all over you.
• Hallucinations, Part II: There’s a good chance whatever lunacy you’re seeing is real.
• Find me someone who doesn’t go on thoughtless and damaging spending sprees.
• Colossal lapses in judgment? Whassamattah, you don’t read the Post?
• Volatile mood swings are expected and accepted as perfectly normal
• Paranoia is a positive trait and the smart choice.
• So you’re unreliable. Everyone’s too jaded and cynical to care.
• Eccentricity is the norm. Topeka calls it “crazy”, we call it “inspired”.
• The average hipster can give you a run for your money on having a short attention span and little short-term memory.