Feece Your Far.

march 5th, 2014

Night before a full-day on-site interview for a new gig. Re-filled the CO2 trap. Slept alone at home. No Sweet Vlad as bait. Just me.

Left the closet light on. Didn't sleep well. The sheets felt extremely rough, maybe from all the heat treatment. Every readjustment on the pillow rough to the cheek. Every brush of the blankets the imagined scamperings of a bug. And, I have also grown accustomed to a certain level of cuddles. I know. Gross. Well. It's true. The poet does not avert her eyes, sheeple!!

Around 3am stared in horror at a long black ribbon of bug-sized poo. Fresh from the feed. Picked it up with a corner of paper towel. On close inspection, it was black fuzz. People keep telling me not to let the bed bugs get to me. Wake up, sheeple!! Wake up, it's time to examine the fuzz, and the Tups full of diatomaceous earth at the bed corners. Wake up, it's 4am and you're looking for the shiniest brass bed on Google Shopping. Did you know: the brass bed was invented to combat bed bugs? That's what my alderman's website says. No citation, but other sites say same. Thus Alderman Osterman, too, joins the Internet bed bug story mill.

In the morning: no new bugs in the trap, no bites on my body. Many people aren't reactive to the bug bites, so, inconclusive there. Powered through the interview on coffee.

A lie that I currently entertain: that there was only one bug left. That we got him. That it's over now.