Got Bugs??

There’s nothing like an insect infestation to remind you of your LAST insect infestation.

Before I reveal to you my current source of alarm, let me take you back…back…back --to one year ago when I was very, very pregnant and in the midst of a similar crisis.

At the same time that my waist line and hormonal levels were careening out of control, my life was also spinning out of its normal orbit. (Murphy’s Law of Pregnancy #1: At the exact moment when your body and mind are at their most limited, the universe throws you a curve ball just to shake you up and make sure you’re paying attention.) It was a rainy morning in my eighth month when I blearily stumbled into the living room and defied many laws of physics in order to ease my bloated body down onto the couch. My husband was on his laptop, checking his agenda for the day. (Murphy’s Law of Pregnancy #2: Your husband, just by existing on the planet, will drive you nuts. This is probably due to hormonal fluctuations. Knowing this, however, will not help you deal with your annoyance. The way he breathes, eats soup, and clips his toe nails will leave you wondering what you were thinking when you said, “I do.”) I watched him furrow his brow as he read through an email, bitterly envying his ability to drink caffeinated beverages and eat yummy processed foods with lots of preservatives, when I noticed a strange sound.

“Hey. What’s that noise?”

“What noise?” He didn’t even look up, so absorbed was he in whatever computer-y thing that he does for a living.

“That crunchy noise.” I heaved my bulk off the couch and followed the sound toward the corner. “It’s coming from over here.” I pointed to the wall. “Come listen.”

Scott sighed and obligingly did as I asked.

“Weird. Sounds like paper crunching. Or maybe water? Maybe it’s water sliding down the siding outside?” Scott shrugged.

“I’ve never heard that noise before when it’s rained….” I thumped the wall with my fist. Was it my imagination or did the noise intensify a little? “Maybe you should go outside and take a look,” I suggested. I was guzzling an entire container of orange juice, trying to pretend it was coffee, when the side door slammed open and Scott rushed into the house.

“What’s the matter?” The look on Scott’s face made me put down the carton.

“There are bees flying into a crack between the siding and a window. They are in the wall. That’s the crunchy noise. Bees.”

“SHUT UP!”

“I wish I were lying.”

“What are we going to do? Burn the house down? Move? Wait--is bee infestation something we need to declare we know about if we list the house for sale?”

“Probably. Look, we need to call a pest control service. I’m running late for work. Can you call them?”

“You mean you are going to leave your eight month pregnant wife and your unborn child alone in a house infested with bees??”

“I thought I would, yes.” So much for chivalry. Scott has lived for years under the deluded notion that I am capable and competent, despite my protests that I am the fragile flower type of southern belle in constant need of rescue. He continually leaves me languishing in distress, airily calling over his shoulder, “I know you can handle this. Have a great day!” Trust me when I say that there is nothing more annoying than being told to have a great day while one is languishing. And if one is pregnant and languishing, the annoyance is easily three-fold. I am fairly certain I said something nasty under my breath as he left for work, possibly questioning whether his parents had actually been married at the time of his birth.

For the past few years there has been a marketing campaign by a national pest control service involving commercials featuring a good-natured, calm, extremely knowledgeable pest control technician answering trivia questions posed to him by frantically concerned customers. I would mention the name of said company, but I don’t want to be sued. That was the company I called.
Suffice it to say that Well Known Pest Control Company (WKPCC) did not exactly fill me with confidence in their pest removal abilities. Candy, the one who answered the phone, repeatedly said things like, “Ewwwww!” and “Gross!” when I described my bee problem. Then, she sent a knight in shining yellow overalls who claimed to have once been a marine, but he screamed like a girl and swatted the air whenever a bee came in his general direction. The bees were eventually removed, but I think it was more a matter of divine intervention than aptitude on the part of WKPCC.

That’s why when I found what appeared to be termites in our bay window last week, I fell straight to languishing. I mean, if WKPCC’s ex-marine went into hysterics over bees, he’d probably have a full blown panic attack when encountering termites, and I just didn’t feel up to dealing with his post-traumatic stress while taking care of my infant.

Sadly, Scott’s complete disregard for my suffering has a tendency to cut into my languishing time, which forces me to move straight to getting down to business. (I have a hunch this isn’t completely coincidental on his part.) That is why I bypassed WKPCC and called my book club buddy’s family’s pest control service. Best. Move. Ever.

International Exterminators of Elk Grove Village, Illinois (847.439.4488) not only didn’t squeal in disgust when I called, they actually dispelled my fears immediately by informing me that the insects I described were not termites at all, but flying ants! Further, they requested that I give my pediatrician a call and get his okay on the type of pesticide to use around my children. How professional is that?? No screaming ex-marines. Just calm, quiet pest removal. Brilliant. If you are in the Chicago area, I highly, highly recommend International Exterminators.

Of course, the deteriorating bay window due to wood rot, not termites, still needs to be replaced and my first estimate was $5000-6500. I will be languishing over that while Scott ignores my drama for the next few days. Anyone know a good window company?