Bed(room) Bugs

Yes, yes. I do abhor water bugs a very great deal.

But my bug abomination does not rise and set with those long, crunchy, antennae-wielding mutants.

No – it’s a far more innate fear or all insects that began when I was very young. And that, unfortunately, has not dissipated as the years have gone on.

I went home to celebrate an early Father’s Day this past weekend and we had a lovely little Saturday on the boat. (I would post Trissi’s pic cause it’s funnier but I think she would hop the next train to NYC and kill me.)

After a lovely day of boating around the Long Island Sound and strolling through Niantic, we headed back to Sharon. Unfortunately, the buggies were heading “home” as well. To my bedroom.

Bastards!

The rain, humidity, lights (that I stupidly left on), and teeny tiny slits around my air conditioner all banded together to form The Perfect Storm. Unfortunately my version did not involve George Clooney, but rather consisted of an ideal climate for an insect-infestation-partay.

I sometimes forget that the world of creepy-crawlers is not limited to those toxic-waste-ingesting freaks of nature that run rampant in this city. Water bugs, silver fish, and ginormous cockroaches are but a teeny tiny dot on the spectrum of insects I’ve encountered. And detest.

I sometimes forget that when I go to Sharon, there is a plethora of other sordid species I have to struggle with.

Perhaps that’s why my parents bought me a bug vacuum when I was in high school – they were sick to death of my incessant shrieks and screams when an insect decided to pay a visit to my bedroom.

Oh bug vacuum…how I miss thee. Those were the days! It's simple design consisted of a long tube with a flat piece at the top that would lie flush against the wall or ceiling. After sucking the bug in, it would zap, killing it, then store its frail little carcass in the base container.

How I wish it hadn’t died from overuse! 

There I lay, trying to sleep, exhausted from a day of fun in the sun, when all of a sudden I spied with my half-closed, drooping eye, a light. Flashing. ‘Twas no thunder, so it couldn’t be a storm. Ah, must be the light coming from my A/C.

But no, there it was again. And again. And AGAIN.
My heart fluttered with fright – this wasn’t the first time a lightning bug’s stupid little glowing ass had found its way into my dwelling.

No amount of cool air could keep at bay the beads of sweat that formed on my forehead. I turned on the light. It had started to rain. There were pesky mosquitoes, gnats, daunting black moths, and numerous other varieties of bugs that I didn’t care to stare at long enough to name.

I took a few deep breaths, turned off the light, and weighed my options.

There was no bug vacuum to suck them up and zap them. It was past midnight and I didn’t think my parents would exactly jump at the opportunity to come up and kill them. Memories of a moth finding its way down my shirt, startling me awake, leaving me terrified and unable to sleep assaulted my mind.

What oh what was a girl to do?

I did the best I could given the situation. Popping an Ambien, I pulled my hoodie over my head, donned a sleep mask, and hid under the sheets.

Needless to say, I still hate bugs. They are, and I’m afraid will always be, my biggest fear.