Fast forward one month after the all-clear siren and the tentative bliss of bed bug freedom.
I came home from my awesome trip to Chicago and had the house to myself for an entire weekend! Hubby was on retreat and the kids were all gone. Yea! So, after a great workout, I made some salad and decided to go to the Bat Cave and settle in for a night of Outlander and perhaps a movie before bed.
No sooner did I sit down, did I immediately notice what appeared to be a dead critter-who-shall-not-be-named next to my chair. No panic yet. Figured maybe kitty brought it in somehow. Okay. Breathe, Meg. It’s okay. Then I looked on the floor in front of the TV and saw a f’ing parade of the lil bastards and, of course, in my mind, they were all headed to my bedroom across the hall.
NOW I CAN PANIC.
And I did. I collapsed into a sense of betrayal that the we had not removed these things and I was now alone in a battlefield to save my sacred bedroom from invasion.
I ripped apart my bedroom, mattress and everything. Nothing. Not one bug. Armed with my spray bottle weapon, I slept with the lights on under a sick sense of doom.
The next day Wayne came home and we ripped apart that room. Found a few more. Bagged the little buggers and steeled ourselves for a battle royale. We called Bat Man.
Overwhelmed with other work, it took Bat Man a few days to get to us. We were almost giddy that, for some reason, regular alcohol spraying seemed to keep them at bay and out of our room. I prayed. I visualized an incredible impenetrable barrier. I meditated even harder. And I was pissed this was happening, but again, went through a similar process from just a few weeks prior.
Perspective. It’s all about perspective.
I got some. Dug deep and found some peace.
Then Bat Man and the special bug guy finally got here and I was prepared for the dreadful prognosis and treatment plan. After taking the bagged critters-who-shall-not-be-named, they came back and said, “You don’t have bed bugs. you have bats again and these are BAT BUGS.”
Huh? What? A fairly common misdiagnosis when bats are present in a house as they look very similar, but bat bugs don’t like human blood, which is why they weren’t racing to live in our bedrooms. However, if starving—as they were during the winter while the bats were somewhere else—bat bugs seek humans out. My poor daughter had become their winter buffet.
Treatment for bat bugs isn’t nearly as awful. Just have to remove the bats. Again. Then take care of the attic.
So, the bats are persistent and seem to like us a lot. Good when they eat all the mosquitoes outside, but could they please live outside? I’ve researched bat animal medicine and meditated on these critters of the night and it seems we are in for more big transformation. I’m in. Thanks for the message, bats. Now kindly move outside, okay?
And now… the things I learned from almost having bed bugs:
1. My God has a dark sense of humor sometimes.
2. Spiritual complacency can result in major house cleaning.
3. My family rocked the crisis.
4. Germs seem like pansies to me in comparison to bed bugs.
5. Meditation works.
6. Prayer works—big time.
7. Even bed bugs can have a spiritual function in this world.
8. A new degree of humility occurs when you realize that bugs can throw you to the depths of despair.
9. Sometimes bed bugs aren’t what they seem. Literally.
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