Dear America, Leslie has bedbugs or why I can't have nice things

"Can I iron this couch?"

Les asked me that because intense heat kills bedbugs. He can't sleep in his bed - he has bedbugs. So he slept in the living room on the antique couch I got from a friend's grandmother(RIP), sweetly nestled in his possibly bug infested childhood blanket, surrounded by garbage bags full of clothing.

No, you can't hot iron satin, friend. It melts.

Leslie has informed me that there is a bedbug epidemic in Chicago, but I'm not sure it isn't localized entirely in his bedroom. Unfortunately, according to the internet - he's right. There was a recent article in the Trib, and there's a website called Chicago Vs. bedbugs.

I am completely humorless on the subject of my house being infested with bedbugs. They will attack every material object I have obtained, force me to wash all my possessions in one exhausting day and cover my home in chemicals. Bedbugs can live a year to a year and a half without feeding. Bedbugs are tiny, and hard to spot. You have to hunt them, stalk their feeding ground (your bed at night, you)looking for their waste or their skin husks. They will bite you and your cat, then lay eggs that will hatch more biters and skin shedders and arbitrarily bury themselves in belongings till they've buried themselves in everything.

Just the thought is anxiety inducing, irritating, frustrating. It makes me angry. Why did this happen? Who the fuck gets bedbugs? This shouldn't be happening to me! This isn't my problem. Why is this my problem? Fuck! The Tanya Harding of life has knocked out my knee with a lead pipe. WHY ME, GOD, WHY ME?

Then mid pity party, a little voice in my head says, "Ah ha ha! You had this coming. All the bullshit you own is covered in parasites, and deserves to be covered in parasites. You don't need so many vintage dresses - I don't care how beautiful and haunted looking they are! You don't need all those clothes, those records and furniture that you think is so lovely and necessary. All they gather are wretched bugs. All your possessions have brought you nothing but irritation and they will rot in landfills for centuries - unnecessary junk, garbage, crap, everything you hate."

I believe the voice is right. If I didn't have these things, bed bugs wouldn't be so horrible. There wouldn't be mountains of clothes to clean, furniture to fumigate. I could even throw whatever meager, worthless possessions I have away. So long, bugs! Why do I feel the need to amass cold, senseless objects? I've bought into the system of consumerism. For example, that g.d. car. If I didn't have a car, I wouldn't have to work a job I hate to pay for it. I am a slave to the cycle, and if I rid myself of these things, and the urge to possess them, finally I would be happy, maybe even free. Free!

I believe the voice is right...for like 10 seconds.

I bought a bunch of stuff with stupid money from my stupid job, but that's what I did, and there's nothing wrong with the desire to keep what I bought safe. I like collecting things! I like listening to music! Sometimes I like spending my money, choosing what I put in my house. I choose wrought iron bed frame! I choose parasol umbrella! I get joy from looking at that antique couch - I love the carved flowers on the wooden frame, the silky mauve fabric covered with shiny gold and cream colored flowers. It's art, it's functional, and it was free! FRRREEEEEEEEEEE!

Who's to say these possessions won't help me do something great, something I love. Who says they don't bring me real joy? They do! Objects are not a life sentence. Neither are bedbugs. It's okay to like things. And I do like things. And I like them the most when they are bug-free.