As of yet, I still don’t have an apartment, but for the past three nights I’ve been living with Mike, one of my colleagues. The apartment does have its charm, if a Dostoyevsky novel is charming for you. I have a mattress on the floor with a thin blanket in a drab room where the textured wallpaper is peeling off in strips. I actually love it, and I love the location of the building. I can look out my window onto the canal, and just across the bridge there’s a lively town square with shops, restaurants and a supermarket. I wish I could stay so I could make it more beautiful.
I’m still on a strange sleep schedule, and I keep waking up at 2, 3, and 4 o’clock. For each of these nights I’ve been awakened by a single buzzing mosquito, and I kept wondering how it could possibly survive in this small room with only my blood to feast upon. The first night, I got a bite on the wrist. Pretty normal. The second night, I got a bite on my index finger and the outer rim of my ear. This is starting to get irritating. Last night, I awoke at 3 with a tingling sensation on my lip, and I ran to the mirror to discover a huge bite that was swelling my bottom lip to twice its size. I was up until 4 looking up bed bugs on the internet, trying to find out if anything more sinister might be chomping on me in the night.
I woke up this morning to find that I couldn’t open my right eye. A bite on the lid had swollen it shut.
Good Night, Sleep Tight
Don’t Let the Bedbugs Bite
But if Your Blood You’ve Found They’ve Took
Then Smash Them with the Nearest Book