Home Drama. Sigh. Color me humiliated.

Before I start, let me say that the apartment gets dusty sometimes, especially in summer when we have the windows open so much, but we are not dirty people. We do clean regularly. We don't have any animals in the apartment, it's an inside entrance, so we don't track in mud and/or whatnot from the outdoors, either. We bathe, do laundry, carry out the garbage regularly and frequently, and don't let nasty dishes sit around in the sink or on the counters.

I'm just saying that if Some People don't stop delicately suggesting that I do some cleaning and/or change my bed linens occasionally, I'm going to start screaming.

Since about mid-May, I've been fighting a bout of leprosy. (I'm such a drama queen. It was a rash on my forearms.) The doctor said it was "contact dermatitis" and also lectured me about over-exfoliating (apparently I've been a little rough on my skin and I'm no longer allowed to use anything more abrasive than a washcloth).

We cleaned obsessively. I spent over $30 doing laundry in two weeks--as did the R.C. I washed everything that got within six inches of my skin, every day, at home and at work. the R.C. and I wiped down every surface I got close to, over and over and over. I used carpet cleaner to clean the fabric chair I sit in and the decorative pillow that sits on it.

We washed everything that could be washed and wiped everything that couldn't--several times each day. I changed my sheets every night and washed them and the clothes I'd been wearing that day every evening.

I had to buy some $70 cream for the rash, but the cream did help dramatically in just a few days, so worth it.

Two weeks ago, the R.C. complained that she was getting eaten up by bugs from somewhere.

We were distracted by getting ready for the vacation and by Downstairs Man, the new tenant who had just moved in and was constantly having loud, chatty gatherings on his porch in the early hours of the morning (along with some weirdnesses that this post is already too long for me to detail), so we didn't think that much about it.

We left town. My problem was clearing up fast, the R.C. got no more bites, all was good.

We came back, did all the laundry again, and I got distracted by trying to get caught up on freelance stuff--a task made more complicated by the intermittent failure of our internet connection. By Monday, Real Work was distracting me (see relevant post for long and whiny discussion) so the R.C.'s complaint that she was getting eaten up (she had three more bug bites - I am not the only drama queen in this scenario) didn't really register.

Then, this Wednesday night I had one of my periodic bouts of killer insomnia. I was laying there at 3:00, wondering if I should just give up on sleep and read a book and aggravated because my dermatitis wasn't better and I was itchy.

I turned on the light and there was a bug on my pillow case. Killed it. (More bugs. Killed them. Stripped bed. All linens in tightly closed plastic garbage bag, awaiting washing. Took another shower. Slept for two hours on living room floor. 132 words saved in an already humongous post.)

Yesterday the R.C. and I both came home a little early and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned.* Twelve loads of laundry, six giant garbage bag trips to the dumpster throwing out everything we could find to throw out. We cleaned everything. I sprayed carpet cleaner on the floor next to my bedroom walls and cleaned those places. I washed the bottom parts of those walls where the bed had been.

The R.C. saw no bugs at all. I found four more on my bedroom walls. (None on the bed--I think these wall bugs got into my bed because it was pushed up against the wall where they were climbing.) Bathrooms - cleaned. No bugs. Kitchen - no bugs. Living room - no bugs.

(676 more words saved by eliminating further cleaning details. You're welcome.)

I called a mattress store to ask for their hours and I'm going to get rid of my mattress (it was used when I bought it twenty years ago, so I was thinking of getting a new one anyhow) and get a new one. Which I am going to leave in plastic, if it gets delivered before then, until this problem is dealt with.

I finally got in touch with the apartment people this morning. Their "scheduled day" for extermination is Wednesday and apparently they can't get anyone over sooner. In the meantime, we have to clear access to the floor next to all walls (no easy feat in an apartment with fourteen fully loaded bookcases) wash all fabric items in hot water and dry them twice (both an impossibility in today's world of "no hot water / air dry" artificial fabrics), strip the beds completely and lean the mattresses up against the wall for spraying (has to be done Wednesday morning - the R.C. needs to sleep on her mattress until then, although I'm sleeping on the couch in the living room for the time being), and make sure we are not in the apartment for at least four hours after the guy finishes spraying next week.

I am wigging out.

Although the apartment people were desperate to blame the recent Vegas Venture for the infestation, I was firm with them that this problem started days before that. So firm, in fact, that I think they're going to contact Downstairs Man and spray his place as well. And, since I was equally firm that most of the bugs I saw were on the walls, headed skyward, maybe the apartment above, as well.

I've never been infested before. I am not enjoying the experience.

Last night, I lay on the couch with a flashlight in one hand and I kept clicking in on to see if I could surprise any bugs. (There were none--I had a bite-free night, as did the R.C.) Eventually I did get 6-7 hours of sleep, so ahead of Wednesday night that way.

Today every time I become aware of my skin I stop to wonder if I have parasites.

Wigging. Out.

____________________

* Not that the place was dirty.