Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite. Seriously.

I don't think I appreciated that phrase until now. Or realized how truly terrifying a thing this is to say to a young child.

We just moved into our apartment, and we have bed bugs. It first started with my one roommate, she woke up covered in mysterious bites and we searched the house for clues. I was the next victim, by then we had found two tiny bug corpses hidden in my roommate's curtains--so we dumped the curtains, washed everything we could and called the exterminator. We haven't even been in our apartment for an entire month and everything we brought into the apartment was brand new, so the landlord is footing the bill (thank goodness).

It's been a little bit stressful considering we are all in the middle of adjusting to moving, living with each other, new jobs and classes. It's also stressful for me because my roommates and their parents freaked out so much about the bed bug situation that I felt like I almost shouldn't react at all. I should be the calm one, the sane one. The one capable of getting down to business and making rational decisions. I also seemed to be the least girly about the whole situation, which was surprising considering they both assumed I was the girly one before they even met me based on some pictures they saw of me in a tiara on my Facebook. Btw, it was my birthday and we went to a concert, of course I wore a crown! But anyways, there has been a lot of shrieking and jumping at clumps of fuzz over the past few days.

The exterminators came today and I even went as far as to bribe them with cookies to do a super thorough job, they laughed but took the cookies. It's all turning out fine, just like I knew it would, but it was strange for me to see how other people to react to not-so-ideal situations.

Because I look at things this way: sometimes things happen that you can't control and all you can do is roll with it and wait for it to stop raining. You turn those brown bananas into banana bread and move on. It's pretty simple. And spazzing out and worrying yourself sick doesn't solve the problem or make things better.

All I know is that if there is a zombie apocalypse in the near future, and I'm around my roommates, I'm going to be the one saying "calm down guys, I'll just get a sawed-off shot gun and we'll be fine." Too much? But seriously...

Or maybe I'm just a little more 'west-coast' and laid-back than I thought.

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