i think i have bedbug psychosis. a couple days ago, i found a bedbug on the curtain by my laundry hamper. i'm almost completely sure that it was a stowaway from somewhere i visited on Saturday, maybe the movie theater (Cincinnati is right behind NYC as the bedbug capitol of US). it was a late stage larvae, according to pictures i found online, so not an egg layer yet. i haven't found any signs of any additional bedbug presence, and i've torn my apartment apart twice in the last two days, with no evidence of an infestation, yet every time i feel something on my skin, real or imagined, i jump. my neighbors across the hall seem like the kind of people who would have bedbugs. i think the bedbugs are watching me when i go outside. i think the bedbugs can read my thoughts. i think the bedbugs killed JFK. arrrrgggghhhhh. i have a large bottle of sterifab coming to me and perhaps, if i douse myself and my environs with it, seven times a day, and wear tissue boxes for shoes like Howard Hughes, and perhaps burn the building down, the bedbugs will stop invading my dreams. my building does have a few nice house spiders, perhaps i can coax them into an alliance against the brain bugs that feed on my emotions. it's a communist plot to sap and impurify my precious bodily fluids
what is it about bedbugs that just drives one crazy, even when they aren't there?