Two blogs in one day isn’t right … so I’ll keep this short. One of the problems of living in an apartment house – and on the 8th floor – is that when you see a big bug it’s like the end of the world. Change that to when “I” see a bug. You might be just fine with it.
After the hair-raising scream, my life became about stuffing everything in sight into the space where the water bug disappeared. Brillo pads were followed by an entire roll of paper towels (environmental issues can’t hold up to a bug) packed into every conceivable crevice.
But it’s all to no avail anyway. Because what this means is that the stuff they put into the 2 holes behind the stove has ceased to work, and from now on I can expect to see more water bugs. Which means I must have the superintendent up and one of the handymen … to move the stove and refill the holes. Embarrassing!
And I’m terrified that if they do, water bugs will come pouring out. The thing is, if I know a water bug is in the house, I can’t sleep or even rest until it’s found and destroyed. Or I must move.
I really, really hate life right now! And that’s WITH a valium!