If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you may have recently been inundated with complaints about my bedbug-infested life. I apologize. I am an only child, and thus need someone to validate my discomfort. Don’t worry, I waited until 6:01 a.m. California time before calling my mom in tears.
If you weren’t subject to my endless whining, let’s take a look at this whole bedbug saga. I offer absolutely no help on getting rid of bedbugs, as you shall see by the end of this.
Sunday, 3:02 a.m.: The first night in my homestay in Ubud after a week in place on Gili Trawangan with dusty shelves that I am now judging, I woke up with bug bites all over my right arm. I was scratching like crazy, so I crawled out of bed, popped two ibprofen and smeared on some hydrocortisone cream and then snuggled back into sleep. Had been sleeping with a full mosquito net around my bed–it was the tropical canopy bed of my childhood dreams!–so a bit confused as to how this happened. Blamed myself for not covering myself in mosquito repellent before bed, as per usual. I was distracted by the canopy.
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