I do not and probably will never know where they came from. Before I only thought of them as something from a childhood rhyme, or something that didn't really exist in modern times. But alas: the bedbugs bit.
This may disgust some of you, or make you itchy, but as the get-rid-of-bedbug websites keep telling me: FIRST UNDERSTAND IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT YOU HAVE BEDBUGS.
Well, duh! I didn't go looking for them. I'm clean, I occasionally flip the mattress, I don't seek out pests to bring home. And yet here I find myself mid-fumigation. I already know it's not my fault, but thank you for the re-assurance. I feel better about the situation.
The more I hear, the more common this problem seems to be. Several friends have told me they've had them. And these are nice, clean, normal people. And then there's one of my ballet students, all three and a half years of her, who informed me of this problem whilst swinging from my arm. She's definitely on the suspect list.
But doesn't this show how easily they travel? Between children, from the person next to you on the bus, from next door. Now I don't mean to scare you but these little creeps are crafty.
Now, anyone who's read or watched The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy will know that mice are the most intelligent creatures on the planet. I reckon bedbugs are not far behind. They were my invisible room-mates for probably months without me knowing.
So here's the story.
I did start by noticing bites. Freakishly linear bites. I mean, I'd been bitten five times in a line a Roman road builder would have been proud of down the length of my arm. Then the next day, the same story on my leg.
It's a good job really that I'm constantly ill and at the doctors or it might have been ages before I thought to ask someone what it could be. What was massively wrong was her advice on how to get rid of them. Vacuming doesn't work. Yes I strip-searched my bed and entire room and sure enough I found a couple. I hoovered, emptied the bag and repeated every day. The bites stopped almost immediately so I assumed I'd been lucky and picked up a pair of males or something.
It was only when they made their presence known to my flatmates much later that we called in the Ghost Busters. And guess whose room the bugs liked the best. Yep. It was the girl who was no longer ever bitten. Moi. Apparently, unlike my immune system, my skin is pretty resistant. Boom.
So now the flat looks like a refugee camp. All our stuff is in bin bags, awaiting a thorough tumbledry (60 degrees for 20-40 mins for your information). I have no bed, but I sleep safe in the knowledge that certainly 90% of my former bedfellows are gone with it.
You know, after seeing hide nor hair of them since the initial spring clean, as soon as the pest control guy confirmed their existence (in a FREE assessment), I kept seeing them strutting all over the place. They may as well have been flashing me the Vs. Brazen.
Then when we picked a date for battle, they started biting back. It would have been a touching final stand if it wasn't aimed against me.
You see what I mean about their intelligence. They were definitely aware of what was going on. It's a conspiracy I tell you!
I'm happy to tell you that I have not noticed them since the first fumigation, so I have high hopes that the second one will ensure complete success and I can sleep soundly from now on. I have my fingers crossed.
This is more of a warning than a moral tale this week. I hope I have armed you with some crucial facts, readers. Be alert, be suspicious, freeze delicate clothing. It could be you next.
And on an obvious but fitting finish: Don't let the bedbugs bite.
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