It’s amazing Sgt. Lucky puts up with me.
I called him three times today weeping because the exterminator claimed he couldn’t come til next week. I can tell you from my extensive dating experience that men LOVE it when women call them crying, especially repeatedly in one afternoon. It’s like natural Viagra to them.
The good news is that we now have someone from another company coming to help us tomorrow morning. My new best friend Matt at UMG Pest Control is sending, he promises, one of their very best specialists. Clearly Matt could tell that I was on my last legs, sanity-wise, and didn’t want to get caught in the vortex of crazy. He was very nice to me, and didn’t even overcharge.
Matt: I can have someone there tomorrow morning, early.
Me: Oh my God, really?
Me: This is like Christmas come all over again. You have no idea.
Matt: (Smiling audibly.) You’re welcome!
If this sounds like an ad, I don’t care. I spoke with six people this afternoon, most of whom quoted me figures ranging from $1300-$1700. I believe that this constitutes extortion, and should be made illegal.
The most embarrassing part? I don’t know if this is scientifically provable, but I seem to be bitten more on the parts of me that are squishy. My tummy, left boob, and hip are all nicely decorated with welts. Lascivious little fuckers, aren’t they?