Every morning, when I wake up to make coffee and oatmeal, I close my eyes a few seconds after turning on the lights. These black beetles have started showing up in our apartment, so I like to give them a head start as they scurry for cover. It’s an unpleasant cohabitation, but peaceful all around.
Still, I’d like them gone. It’s not like they help with rent.
We have what you might call a “bug problem,” although I would argue it’s always problematic when you’ve got beetles crawling around your place. It’s really kind of an insult, because there’s a stigma involved with having an infestation in your apartment — it must be dirty, it must be cheap or it must be old. Yeah, our apartment is old, but there’s no reason beetles would look at our apartment and think, Bingo! My girlfriend and I are victims here.
I suspect they’re coming in through the windows. With the weather being so mild here in the winter (and it’s been especially warm this year), there hasn’t been a streak of freezing days long enough to kill the beetles off. Then again, I’m an English graduate, so there’s absolutely not scientific merit to what I just wrote. That’s just my theory. It’s El Nino’s fault.
Maybe this is karma. This is what I get for challenging all the food ethics and sensibilities of the more environmentally conscious locals. One of the benefits of eating organic — or so I’m told — is the produce is grown without use of insecticide or herbicide. Just seeds, sunbeams, soil and the golden hands of God, and BOOM! Organic green bell peppers, $3 apiece.
I hate insects too much, so I’m not cool with eating organic. In fact, I’m happy to spray a little insecticide on my salad just to be sure I’m not mowing down on some microscopic larvae. I’ve seen Fly too many times. That’s not the lifestyle I’m going for.
What’s the connection here? My girlfriend and I, the ones unwilling to buy organic, are probably the only ones in our apartment complex who are dealing with these beetles. That’s how I see it, anyway, but that paranoia is tied with the emotion you feel when bugs start showing up at your place. You feel violated. You feel targeted. You feel like the beetles are communicating in the night, holding position in the most strategic areas of your apartment, slowly plotting a hostile takeover. Or a dance number:
So, faithful TMT readers and soon-to-be-fellow millionaires, what’s No. 1 on my list when we win the Powerball tonight? A new apartment with a 24-hour butler/Orkin Man. That’s a guy worth keeping in the payroll.