Kinja wouldn’t let me post Day Nine because Reasons, so Day Nine is just below and Day Eleven is below that. Enjoy my paranoia!

Day Nine

I’m about three seconds away from hysterical, you guys.

Okay, so the houseguests are gone. No one was bitten and we saw no bugs nor bites through yesterday. We are, again, cautiously optimistic. Today (I had the day off) I’m chilling in the bedroom, leaning against the bed, and about two hours ago four bites appear. One on my right wrist, one on my left hand, one on my left forearm, and one on my left upper arm. I can’t tell tell if they are bed bug bites. They look different from the ones on my calf, but I don’t know if that’s because they are on a different body part or what.

So I’ve spent the last two hours tearing the room apart again, steaming everything, spraying everything, and I find possibly two bright red larvae (or they could have been lint) and one and half exoskeletons. The exoskeletons could be from the two we found (one live, one dead) on Thursday night and Friday morning, and it’s certainly possibly the bites are just normal bites. It’s been about a million degrees with high humidity lately, so anything is possible.

But I am about to throw a tantrum and cry forever.

Also, we know that the county inspector sent the letter because our apartment manager won’t say hi to us and instead is giving us glares of true and pure hatred. (Which, frankly, I find confusing.)

I called Mr. PKB at his temp gig and he suggested we not rewash everything until we’re sure it’s bed bugs again and we see a concrete sign of them. I agree, but I’m washing the sheets anyway.

I can’t do it. I can’t do it again. I can’t be that itchy and covered in red dots and the old ones haven’t even totally healed yet, there are tiny bruises all over my arms and leg from them and I just can’t. I can’t.

Also, I lost my housekeys, my best friend is super depressed and I can’t help her, and I haven’t slept properly in three days because of the heat.

I can’t. I just can’t.

Day Eleven

It’s becoming clear that some of the bites were always mosquito bites. Because we have a cruel and malicious god who wants to make me crazy. On Day Nine, I ended up finding my housekeys and I did a whole fuckton of laundry, then went to visit Mr. PKB’s mom. She is a calm and soothing woman who I adore utterly.

In the last couple days, I’ve had more bug bites. Rather than being small and perfectly round and in clusters of three, they tend to be big and uneven, and they heal quite differently from the bed bug bites. So the possibly good news is that I was only ever bitten about twelve times by bed bugs, but I still feel So Crazy, Like All The Crazy Forever. Today I was feeling so paranoid that I ripped all the sheets off the bed again, upended the bed and box spring and went over every inch in bright light, and examined the pillowcases and pillows. Results: one possible blood spot on a pillowcase that could be a) old, b) drool, or c) sex juice of some kind. In all likelihood, the bastards are contained.

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Gross side effect: you can see them inside the enclosure, because it’s white and they are not. I can’t sleep sometimes because I dream that their population grows so much that they move the bed while we are in it. And we are sleeping, riding on a sea of horrible, horrible bugs.

Friend is not responding to my texts.

Uncle is still dying.

This week kind of still sucks, y’all.