They didn’t fuck around, lol. When I got to the 8th floor tonight, it was like a tropical heatwave coming off the elevator. My door actually resisted being opened, and stepping inside was an instant sweatbox. Everything is throwing off heat–the walls are super hot still. My terrazza floor is like lava. I burned my fingers on my laundry quarters. I have my window fan in and going full blast… I’m not convinced my computer is cool enough to be on, but I missed the internet.
They left my apartment a wreck, because throughout the heating process they move furniture and rotate your clothes and stuff to be sure everything is exposed to the heat so there’s nowhere the bugs can hide from it. Which is awesome, but Jesus–I look like I’ve been robbed, lol. They bring the whole apartment up to 150 degrees and hold it there for about 4 hours, because 122 degrees is the kill point for the bugs–20 sustained minutes at 122 turns ’em into bug jerky. So they aim higher to account for furniture and windows, etc. And since they did all the affected apartments at once today, you can imagine what that has to feel like…
Me all night: “Ow, my sink is hot!” “Ow, my dishes are hot!” “Ow, my floor is hot!” “Ow, my flip-flops are hot!” “Ow, my toilet is hot!”
The instant I got home, I put everything I was wearing into the laundry, to be sure nothing in the world hasn’t been heat-treated today–and now I’m pouring a giant cocktail–three times my usual strength–because I’m nervous as all getout that somehow this won’t have worked. I won’t know for a few weeks, which makes it harder to go to bed tonight than on any other night–this is the day they did The Thing That Works. So if it didn’t work, I don’t know what my psyche will do. But I also don’t want to draw that energy to myself, so I’m cranking up the tunes, drinking myself hopeful, and partying it up.
I don’t know how I’ll sleep tonight–I think the concrete walls and terrazza floors are holding this heat for ransom, so I’ll have to have a cold shower and sleep almost naked, which, when I’ve spent the past two months covering everything up because of bugs, feels like the end of times. I am so psychologically fucked, lol. I hope the booze helps.
Tonight I raise my glass to the marvelous people at the pest control company, to the heat they bombarded my entire floor with, to my long-suffering floormates, and most of all, to the death of every single bug, instar, nymph and egg in this entire fucking building, for fucking ever, amen.