Because we can't bear to be separated

Ah, spring. That season of flowers, surprise warm rain showers in which I feel perpetually damp and I can't tell if I'm sweating or actually just moist from the rain, and of course, the season of love. Of all sorts. In abundance. Sort of like bugs. Which we have. I decided to substitute love with bugs this year.

And this was a decision. Not a situation forced upon me.

Last year when we moved into this apartment, we had a minor bug problem. By minor, I mean that there were flying ants covering almost absolutely every part of the room, and for lunch I would simply reach out my hand, grab a handful of them, puree them in my hands, and swallow them. But then the pesticide man came, and this situation:


Became a thing of the past.

Bugs, I find, will come no matter what. Even if you do or don't clean the bejeezus out of a place. And while I'm currently using the toilet brush as a toothbrush and I just picked my dinner off the ground and rolled it around in a dust bunny for flavor, I wouldn't particularly say we're living in complete squalor. Nevertheless, the bugs have decided that they might be interested in taking up residence with us, and their giving our apartment a trial visit at the moment. They are still coming in small groups, but I'm guessing it's only a matter of time before word gets out on the street that we've got a pretty *sweet pad* and they'll be arriving with their extended family and lots of baggage.

Which led to the following last night:

No, not that Gwen Stefani is sleeping in our apartment. That we moved Mary Kate's mattress into Julie and my bedroom after Raid-ing her room to high heaven so that we could all huddle together in fear.

(Yes, no need to point out the obvious: I am STILL sleeping on a boat of an air mattress.)

My mattress was actually overlapping Mary Kate's after I reinflated it to its full glory, and that's how we spent the night. Can you feel the love?

And Rita, just say the word. I am ready to lead a revolution of the pants.