Pest control came and sprayed generally around my walls and floor.  Last night I did the last load of clothes drying, and took apart a lot of my bed–found nothing–but sprayed Raid in the crevices just because it felt better to do that.  And because I’ve completely crossed into the realm of insanity, I put diatomaceous earth all over me like baby powder before I went to bed (it’s not a skin irritant, it’s just not good to breathe in a lot of it because it’s bad for your lungs).  Woke up with one new bite–maybe 2–but I can’t tell because it looks like just where my underwear dug into my hip, so I have to wait and see if it’s still there  later.  So this is a reduction in number, which is hopeful.  I’ll give it a week and see if things get better, otherwise I’ll tell the managers to have pest control come back and spray everything in the universe.  My vacuum thing gets here Monday, so I’ll have something else to occupy myself with then, apart from just looking through all my shit with a flashlight every night.  I figure this is also a good opportunity to go through every single piece of paper and possession I own again–get rid of some stuff while i examine it for bugs.

I really hate this–I know this happens to people all the time, but it’s the fucking WORST. I cried a lot last night, just feeling mad and helpless and like a leper–I can’t tell anyone about this.  The stigma attached to bedbugs is huge and understandable, and now I know why, but it also makes you feel like you shouldn’t ever be around anyone, even though the bugs are nocturnal and hide in tiny cracks during the day, so unless your place is crawling with them, you’re unlikely to spread them through daily activities.  But if anyone knew I was going through this, no one would want to be with me, and I get that, but it sucks.  I don’t want to give these to anyone–I wouldn’t wish this on the person I hate most.  I have to tell my boyfriend about this tomorrow, because he shouldn’t come over while this is going on.  So, there goes my sex life…

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