Infestation Blues
My apartment is an oasis of sorts. It is lively, colorful and filled with vibrant, creative family life. The only issue is, other critters are treating my home like a freaking bed and breakfast!
The exterminator was out for the third time to spray for bedbugs. Finally, the whole building has woken up to my warnings that the little bastards are here and have decided to bug the landlord about it- no pun intended. Unfortunately, that means that they waited until it spread and got completely unbearable before they did anything about it. I've got a nice bagful of the creepy creatures and both Tom and I have gotten mad scientist about this problem. Our beds are encased in plastic and the bottoms are covered with double sided carpet tape. Since they don't hop or fly, they have to walk over the tape to get into bed with us. Tom was sure that his carpet tape idea would make him into a giant fool or a folk hero depending on the outcome. We've caught a few this way, but a few have discovered a way around this security system. Damn. Foiled by creatures who do not have the benefit of complex brain function!
Then, today I found a mouse in my kitchen. My PTMD (post traumatic mouse disorder) came back and I was sent into shrieking convulsions while the little fucker just sat there and stared at me. It gave me that New York Stink-Eye perfected by the city's pigeons. This made me mad. However, not mad enough to beat the little bugger bloody or to stab it as my son so calmly suggested. No. I picked it up with a pair of tongs and set it on the fire escape only to watch it slip through the bars to its death one story below. It gave me flashbacks to that Kids in the Hall bit about the carnie who had a mouse in his apartment ("He ate my bread. He POOPED in my bread!"). He was distraught so he bought some traps got drunk and woke to find the mouse dead. He was then hauled away by the cops and there was a little outline of the mouse's body in the trap. Funny. And yet, not so funny. I began to think that maybe I should have adopted him. Maybe he was like Ralph S. Mouse and I was a total asshole for snuffing him.
Of course, if he would have gotten far enough to poop in my bread then I would have bashed the little bastard. Or gotten Tom to do it, either way...
On a non-critter note, some pipes ruptured in my neighbor's apartment causing all the neighbors to hang out on the stoop to complain about all the things wrong with our rent stabalized apartment (Stabalized- not controlled. There's a difference.) while firefighters came to help. The lesson here is, always call the fire department. They'll get there 8 years before the cops ever do AND they'll smile at you and talk to you like you're a person and not a criminal.
Notes to remember at the end of a very crazy day: Firefighters rock. Rodents and bedbugs suck. Remember to always call firefighters to bash cocky mice over the head. Never leave your bread out on the counter.
That's all you need to know.
The exterminator was out for the third time to spray for bedbugs. Finally, the whole building has woken up to my warnings that the little bastards are here and have decided to bug the landlord about it- no pun intended. Unfortunately, that means that they waited until it spread and got completely unbearable before they did anything about it. I've got a nice bagful of the creepy creatures and both Tom and I have gotten mad scientist about this problem. Our beds are encased in plastic and the bottoms are covered with double sided carpet tape. Since they don't hop or fly, they have to walk over the tape to get into bed with us. Tom was sure that his carpet tape idea would make him into a giant fool or a folk hero depending on the outcome. We've caught a few this way, but a few have discovered a way around this security system. Damn. Foiled by creatures who do not have the benefit of complex brain function!
Then, today I found a mouse in my kitchen. My PTMD (post traumatic mouse disorder) came back and I was sent into shrieking convulsions while the little fucker just sat there and stared at me. It gave me that New York Stink-Eye perfected by the city's pigeons. This made me mad. However, not mad enough to beat the little bugger bloody or to stab it as my son so calmly suggested. No. I picked it up with a pair of tongs and set it on the fire escape only to watch it slip through the bars to its death one story below. It gave me flashbacks to that Kids in the Hall bit about the carnie who had a mouse in his apartment ("He ate my bread. He POOPED in my bread!"). He was distraught so he bought some traps got drunk and woke to find the mouse dead. He was then hauled away by the cops and there was a little outline of the mouse's body in the trap. Funny. And yet, not so funny. I began to think that maybe I should have adopted him. Maybe he was like Ralph S. Mouse and I was a total asshole for snuffing him.
Of course, if he would have gotten far enough to poop in my bread then I would have bashed the little bastard. Or gotten Tom to do it, either way...
On a non-critter note, some pipes ruptured in my neighbor's apartment causing all the neighbors to hang out on the stoop to complain about all the things wrong with our rent stabalized apartment (Stabalized- not controlled. There's a difference.) while firefighters came to help. The lesson here is, always call the fire department. They'll get there 8 years before the cops ever do AND they'll smile at you and talk to you like you're a person and not a criminal.
Notes to remember at the end of a very crazy day: Firefighters rock. Rodents and bedbugs suck. Remember to always call firefighters to bash cocky mice over the head. Never leave your bread out on the counter.
That's all you need to know.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 9:13 PM
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