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railenthe*Sleeping*
*Barely perceptible tickle on arm*
*COMBAT ROLL*
*SEIZE BEDBUG BETWEEN TWO SHEETS OF FABRIC SOFTENER*
*GUILLOTINE ITS HEAD OFF*
Ugh.
So I just got back from the front office of the building, to ask about when to expect the problem. I'm getting the impression that the bastards are nesting back up again.
"Well first we have to confirm that's what we do in fact have, not fleas or ticks—"
*record scratch*
Okay. First off, my weak immunity is a family LEGEND. Me not feeling so good in class and dozing off to wake up in the hospital with a pair of IVs in my arm was common enough that *I* could laugh about it. If we had TICKS, I would be PROPER fucked. Second, if we have fleas, either somebody's smuggled in a pet or we ALSO have rats, and at least not in my unit we don't. Not with the D-Con bait I put down. Third, I'M IN HOSPITALITY. We're trained to identify these things on sight. There is a (very graphic) graphic on a door that reminds us every time we get fresh linen. I'm a PRO. If I've told you what the bugs are, I'M PROBABLY RIGHT.
*replaces record needle*
"I was plenty close to the bugger. Pretty positive on what it was. Hey, if you want, I can get the corpse."
(That might sound like morbid humor, but this is actually how we do it. Two trained sets of eyes to double confirm, whether a live bug or dead. THEN YOU GET THE HELL OUT WITHOUT TOUCHING ANYTHING.)
"W-wont be necessary," she says.
"Had to kill him," I said. "Allergic."
It looked like a light went off in her head: this was why the constant hives that make me look like I've gone a couple rounds with Pacquiao.
"More to the point, if it's going to be a while, I need to know if I can get one of the couch kits. I'm getting bit up here and these are lively little fu—aaah, buggers."
I get a long look. "Normally that is a 'no,' but looking at you right now—WHAT YOU GOTTA DO. It could be a while."
I think next time I have to consider a sleeping setup, I'm getting a kotatsu table.
*Barely perceptible tickle on arm*
*COMBAT ROLL*
*SEIZE BEDBUG BETWEEN TWO SHEETS OF FABRIC SOFTENER*
*GUILLOTINE ITS HEAD OFF*
Ugh.
So I just got back from the front office of the building, to ask about when to expect the problem. I'm getting the impression that the bastards are nesting back up again.
"Well first we have to confirm that's what we do in fact have, not fleas or ticks—"
*record scratch*
Okay. First off, my weak immunity is a family LEGEND. Me not feeling so good in class and dozing off to wake up in the hospital with a pair of IVs in my arm was common enough that *I* could laugh about it. If we had TICKS, I would be PROPER fucked. Second, if we have fleas, either somebody's smuggled in a pet or we ALSO have rats, and at least not in my unit we don't. Not with the D-Con bait I put down. Third, I'M IN HOSPITALITY. We're trained to identify these things on sight. There is a (very graphic) graphic on a door that reminds us every time we get fresh linen. I'm a PRO. If I've told you what the bugs are, I'M PROBABLY RIGHT.
*replaces record needle*
"I was plenty close to the bugger. Pretty positive on what it was. Hey, if you want, I can get the corpse."
(That might sound like morbid humor, but this is actually how we do it. Two trained sets of eyes to double confirm, whether a live bug or dead. THEN YOU GET THE HELL OUT WITHOUT TOUCHING ANYTHING.)
"W-wont be necessary," she says.
"Had to kill him," I said. "Allergic."
It looked like a light went off in her head: this was why the constant hives that make me look like I've gone a couple rounds with Pacquiao.
"More to the point, if it's going to be a while, I need to know if I can get one of the couch kits. I'm getting bit up here and these are lively little fu—aaah, buggers."
I get a long look. "Normally that is a 'no,' but looking at you right now—WHAT YOU GOTTA DO. It could be a while."
I think next time I have to consider a sleeping setup, I'm getting a kotatsu table.
