Apocalypse now.

I’m not entirely sane…I actually relish that fact: It lends itself to creativity.

However, my lack of complete rationality has been known to effect my ability to function on the most basic of human levels - and today it is doing just that.

Fruit flies are gone, and beyond that brief sighting, not a single bug has been seen in about two weeks (and that’s without an exterminator, thank you very much!).

However, today I got an email from one of my closest friends…she is actually a friend I almost moved in with last year, and she recently moved to studio in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. Apparently, last night she discovered that her neighbors had bed bugs…and today, she discovered she did, as well.

Sadly, this isn’t even her first time dealing with them. Last year, she had a ferocious experience coping with said vermin at a boyfriend’s home. Matters were made worse when she escaped home to her parents, and discovered some had followed her there.

At the time though, we had chalked it up to the freaky Queens infestation crisis.

My friend persevered, spent a fortune on decor for her new home…and now is dealing with it again. She’s understandably hysterical.

Hearing her story made my heart break for her…of course. But the inkling of…”I hope I don’t get them!” laid an egg in my soul. (Sorry.)

Not an hour later, I was telling my BFF what the morning’s events had uncovered, and she shared horrible news. (No, she does not have them.) However, one of her good friends does too! Then, I get to the office I am at today, and overhear another person chatting…you guessed it.

Let it be noted that when I moved into my new home, I bought all new furniture, and all new linens. I have seen no sign of any such gross being, and have none of the tell-tale symptoms. There are no signs of them in my building, or even my neighborhood. (So glad I nixed Queens AND the city when moving!) Still, I am paranoid. In fact, I just spent the greater part of an hour analyzing a mosquito bite on my wrist.

It was, it seems, actually from a mosquito.

Chances are, I will go completely (certifiably) insane. Slightly after my spiral into the depths of insanity, I will put even more toxic fumes in my home and insecticide insects that are not actually there. And then I will die.

Interestingly, I recently read that another crazy apt-renter got paranoid about bugs and over-bug-bombed her small home. The apartment was destroyed in the ensuing explosion.

In the following days, as they sort through the wreckage, cockroaches were found running about.

I so need a new planet to live on.