dendritejungle

So earlier this evening I was planning this longish post with happy updates of recent visits (relatives to see me, my trip to Chicago to see eboniorchid (and while there a lovely lunch with lostandalone22), and to regale you with the tale of my recent discovery of Twilight and its far more awesome fandom -

but then I found a bedbug. About an hour and a half ago.

This is several weeks AFTER I had had a pest control guy to come in and see if I did, in fact, have bed bugs (since I seemed to be getting bitten by something, but it never itched the way bed bugs were supposed to and I never saw any signs - and BELIEVE me, I looked), and he gave me the all clear, the LYING BASTARD. Though granted, it would be hard to tell in my couch. BUT ANYWAY. I CAUGHT ONE OF THE LITTLE FUCKERS BRAZENLY WALKING ACROSS MY COUCH.

GUYS. I AM SO FUCKING GROSSED OUT. I'm the sort of person who quite likes snakes and frogs and worms, will carefully carry spiders and wasps outside rather than kill them, and co-habits with reasonable magnanimity with aphids on a plant in her bedroom (I try to get rid of them, really!) BUT OMFG YOU GUYS, I DRAW THE LINE AT BED BUGS. This is like that urban legend about the guy calling the babysitter and he's in the same house. ONLY IT'S REAL. AND THEY REALLY ARE AFTER ME. I have heard ALL THE STORIES about how fucking hard they are to get rid of. I AM FREAKING. THE FUCK. OUT.

*puts head between legs and tries to remember to breathe*

Anyway. A call will be made tomorrow morning FUCKING STAT OMG to the management office. There will be fire, pestilence and death. Or at least washing, vacumming, steaming, diatomaceous earth-ing and insecticiding. OH YES. THEY WILL DIE.

IF THEY DON'T GET ME FIRST.