The new apartment I moved to a few months ago is a basement. If anyone is even somewhat familiar with basements, they know that insects are a regular occurrence. I, for one, am not a fan of bugs inside. My thought (to bugs) is, “do what you want when you’re outside. Live your life, be free! But the second you step foot over the threshold, you’re toast!!” Once they’re inside, I kill ALL bugs, no regret, no mercy.
In my almost 3 months here, I’ve found a couple spiders, a couple silverfish (they give me the shivers)… and more than my fair share of carpenter ants.
Just to clarify, my bug tolerance is super low. Every time I enter a room I scan it for bugs. It sounds pathetic, but I can’t help myself. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Any fleck of anything black or brown and I have to investigate to make sure it’s not a bug. In university, I once found 2 spiders in my dorm room on the same day and I woke up screaming, “SPIDERS! SPIDERS!” from a nightmare so loudly, I woke up my neighbour. (Sorry Jen Ma!)
So when a silverfish scurried out from under one of my moving boxes in the first couple weeks, I was scared, but I didn’t completely freak out.
Then when I was making juice for my brother and found a dead silverfish in my mother f-in Brita filter, I was scared, but I didn’t completely freak out. And I made him flush it down the toilet, just in case it was playing dead and jumped out at me.
Then a few weeks later when I was on the computer and felt a tickle on my shoulder, only to realize it was an ant on me, I freaked out… but just a bit.
The final straw was when I went to bed on Thursday night. I was exhausted. I turned on the light. Guess what I saw? A freaking ant crawling on my freaking bed.
I. LOST. IT.
I went ape $hit bananas. Seriously, coo coo for cocoa puffs crazy.
It was almost 11pm and I didn’t hesitate in the slightest to call my landlord. I basically told her in no uncertain terms would I continue living in a place where I had to check my bed (my bed!!) for bugs. Nah-uh. No way. NOT happening. She very sweetly invited me (and Kevin) to sleep upstairs for the night, which I fully appreciate, but I know she has ants up there too, so I declined. And she said she would call an exterminator to come to the house ASAP. Boy oh boy did she hold up her end of the bargain. By 4:30pm on Friday (if you’re still reading this far, I called her on Thursday at almost 11pm) an exterminator was at the house fumigating. Me and Riley went to my parents house for the night, and I put my plants on the front porch.
I came back on Saturday afternoon to find about 10-12 dead ants around the baseboards. Yuck. But they were dead, so yay! The exterminator said we’ll continue to find dead ants for about 8 more days. He wasn’t lying. Every day since I have walked in to find a few writhing around dying. I know it’s evil to just let them suffer so I squash them all and end it quickly.
In case any of you were wondering (and miraculously read to the end of this post), the exterminator sprayed the basement, upstairs, and the perimeter of the house. And he gave my landlord a 6 month guarantee, so she can call him to re-spray if we find the fumigation loses its effectiveness.
BLAGHHHHH!! Let’s just all hope that day doesn’t ever come.
In my almost 3 months here, I’ve found a couple spiders, a couple silverfish (they give me the shivers)… and more than my fair share of carpenter ants.
Just to clarify, my bug tolerance is super low. Every time I enter a room I scan it for bugs. It sounds pathetic, but I can’t help myself. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. Any fleck of anything black or brown and I have to investigate to make sure it’s not a bug. In university, I once found 2 spiders in my dorm room on the same day and I woke up screaming, “SPIDERS! SPIDERS!” from a nightmare so loudly, I woke up my neighbour. (Sorry Jen Ma!)
So when a silverfish scurried out from under one of my moving boxes in the first couple weeks, I was scared, but I didn’t completely freak out.
Then when I was making juice for my brother and found a dead silverfish in my mother f-in Brita filter, I was scared, but I didn’t completely freak out. And I made him flush it down the toilet, just in case it was playing dead and jumped out at me.
Then a few weeks later when I was on the computer and felt a tickle on my shoulder, only to realize it was an ant on me, I freaked out… but just a bit.
The final straw was when I went to bed on Thursday night. I was exhausted. I turned on the light. Guess what I saw? A freaking ant crawling on my freaking bed.
I. LOST. IT.
I went ape $hit bananas. Seriously, coo coo for cocoa puffs crazy.
It was almost 11pm and I didn’t hesitate in the slightest to call my landlord. I basically told her in no uncertain terms would I continue living in a place where I had to check my bed (my bed!!) for bugs. Nah-uh. No way. NOT happening. She very sweetly invited me (and Kevin) to sleep upstairs for the night, which I fully appreciate, but I know she has ants up there too, so I declined. And she said she would call an exterminator to come to the house ASAP. Boy oh boy did she hold up her end of the bargain. By 4:30pm on Friday (if you’re still reading this far, I called her on Thursday at almost 11pm) an exterminator was at the house fumigating. Me and Riley went to my parents house for the night, and I put my plants on the front porch.
I came back on Saturday afternoon to find about 10-12 dead ants around the baseboards. Yuck. But they were dead, so yay! The exterminator said we’ll continue to find dead ants for about 8 more days. He wasn’t lying. Every day since I have walked in to find a few writhing around dying. I know it’s evil to just let them suffer so I squash them all and end it quickly.
In case any of you were wondering (and miraculously read to the end of this post), the exterminator sprayed the basement, upstairs, and the perimeter of the house. And he gave my landlord a 6 month guarantee, so she can call him to re-spray if we find the fumigation loses its effectiveness.
BLAGHHHHH!! Let’s just all hope that day doesn’t ever come.
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