Beat those big bad bugs with the bug spray.

Yesterday I found one single bedbug hiding in a towel in the bathroom.  The scenerio went something like this:

Me getting out of the shower and grabbing the towel I had set on the counter to use.  Bedbug climbs out of the towel.  I throw the towel across the room and yell "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!"

I mean, we paid an exterminator over $1,000 to get rid of the fuckers in early July and one lives.  Oh, it doesn't live anymore.  That motherfucker is dead. But still, if there's one... (I threw the towel it was hiding in in the garbage).  To top things off, we have a bee hive in our soffit near the kitchen window.  We were just going to let it stay there (I discovered it during my two week mono house arrest) but Kevin left the kitchen light on overnight and the bees, somehow, got into the house.  In the kitchen.  Where I refused to set foot while a swarm of bees lay waiting for me.  So I call Kevin and tell him about the bedbug.

Kevin: Are you sure it's a bedbug.
Me: I know more about bedbugs than I ever wanted to.  It's a bedbug.
Kevin: Well great. Did you call the exterminator?
Me: No, I'm going to call him as soon as I get off the phone with you.  But, you need to come home.  I need you to kill the bees.  I think they're planning something.  Something evil.  Something sinister.  They saw the honey in the cupboard and they know.
Kevin: Yeah, I'll be there when I can.

I call the exterminator and tell him he's a fucking useless piece of shit and there's a bedbug alive in my house.  OK, no I didn't call him that because no exterminator will guarantee anything when it comes to bedbug.  I guess that makes them all useless pieces of shit but I hope they don't read this because I need one of them to come back and take care of the bee hive and possibly spray the house again.

So Kevin gets home and there is carnage everywhere.  Not a bee in the house is safe.  THERE WAS A FIREFIGHT! I am happy to report that there are now no bees in this house.

But there's still the possibility that there's bedbugs and that just pisses me off.  So I did what any good parent would do.  I took it out on the kids.  They came home from school.

Me: That basement is a fucking pig sty.  I want it clean.  You don't know how many bedbugs could be hiding in there.  No computer time until that place is clean.
Kids: Sure mom!  Anything for you! What the fuck mom!  You fucking bitch!  You make us do all the work in the house and you just sit on your ass and eat bonbons all day.
Me: I am hanging on a thread of my sanity.  Clean the fucking basement or I will go ape shit on you.

So the basement is on the way to being clean, my house may have bedbugs again and when life gives you lemons, make margaritas because then you'll at least be able to get drunk.

BONUS PICTURE

Freedom awaits them out there.  But if I let them go, who would clean the bathroom?