unforth | Rough Days

Well, I usually try not to bitch too much on here, but the simple fact is I'm having a really shitty week. I expressed the expectation some weeks ago that a certain period in February was likely to be one the worst of my life, but as it's turning out, that honor is actually going to this week, despite it's having a single very positive event that's probably all that's kept me sane.

By the by, below has ended up taking the form of a rant, but I really needed to vent and whine a bit. I usually try not to put up posts like this (and I usually make them private when I do) but I've decided to go ahead and leave it - but don't bother reading if you're going to be irritated by reading other people bitch. ;)

First, work is hard. This isn't really a surprise. I pushed myself like crazy to get the TAH proposals done on time, and I did it, and then I immediately had to turn around and work on the 21st CCLC proposals. We're writing 5 grants for this, and each one is 30 pages long, and I'm primarily responsible for four of them (I'm writing four of the first drafts). I had all of last week to work also, but I was so burned out that I just didn't get all this much done, and then I had a personal disaster (see below) on Friday, and was away for the weekend. The result was that I entered this week having only written about 15 pages, and the grants are due on Friday next week (the 27th). Now, I work pretty fast, so I actually don't have to work all that many hours in order to get a lot of grant writing done, but the fact is that it's exhausting and draining no matter how many or how few hours I end up doing it - I generally burn out on writing within 4 to 5 hours, and then am only good for background activities like phone calls, editing, data collection, or e-mails. Despite that, I've written about 60 pages since Monday (one proposal is currently in a second draft only missing a couple sections, and a second I finished the rough draft today. One of the remaining ones I haven't started is almost identical to the rough draft, and the last I haven't started.) I want to have all of the drafts done by Friday, which means writing another 60 - 70 pages in the next two days. Though I'll grant, each subsequent one is easier because I'm "in the habit." I think I can probably do this, but it's an overwhelming prospect any way. Meanwhile, because of the personal disaster and the weekend away, I'm well behind the dates that I suggested to everyone that I'd get them things, and so everyone is pestering me and asking me where stuff is even though there is plenty of time before stuff is do. This is why I didn't want to give them dates, but for some reason all of my clients when timeline crazy all of sudden and everyone wanted to know. Sigh.

Now, for all that I'm whining about it, none of this is really all THAT bad, and none if it is anything new - I've gone through all of it before, both last month during the TAH submissions, and last year when I did 3 21st CCLC grants. But on Thursday night last week, I noticed a strange set of bumps on my left arm that made me immediately suspect bug bits of some sort. The next morning I had bites on my right arm, and had reached the conclusion that I had a serious problem. Far to distracted to write, I spent some time poking around on the net, but could find nothing that quite matched what I seemed to have. Still, I strongly suspected bed bugs, which have become an increasingly serious problem in NYC. They tend to favor messy beds, but all it takes is one infested apartment in a building for them to spread. Surely not coincidentally, I'd washed my sheets on Wednesday, and the crappy driers downstairs had failed, with the result that the one my sheets were in didn't get hot (it permanently pressed my laundry instead of heating the hell out of this). I believe this is how I got the bugs, since heat (120 degrees +) kills them dead, dead, dead. Still, once even a single breeding female gets into your home, you're basically doomed. But I wasn't even certain that's what I had - so I took my butt over to local clinic (still no health insurance, still no doctor in NYC) and got myself diagnosed - and sure enough, they're bed bug bites.

Still, I was going away for the weekend to visit

moonartemis76, and though I was worried about my potential ability to spread my newly discovered plague, I decided to go to Indiana. Everything I've read indicates that bed bugs aren't like lice - they aren't carried on people, you can't get them by sitting next to the wrong person on the train, and as long as one is clean and careful there's no reason to think that I'd transport them with me to Indy. Anyway, the prospect of canceling the trip was enough to make me so thoroughly miserable that I dismissed the idea. And I'm glad I went. Though I came back even more stressed than I left, it still was so incredibly nice to go, and see the folks at the party like

sarcastibich and

akashiver, neither of whom I'd seen in ages, and spend time with S., and see those I've seen more recently like

sapphohestia (though I've only named a few, please don't think I didn't love seeing the rest of you, cause I really, really, really did!) And of course I got to hang out with the bride a whole bunch and I crashed at her place. I was only there for about 24 hours total, but it was a great 24 hours.

I returned home to the prospect of working my ass off while trying to cope with a bed bug infestation. The first step was taking all my sheets and such downstairs for a more thorough washing. Unfortunately, bites since then have meant that it didn't solve my problem. Still, it's a good thing I went. While down there, I met another of my neighbors (I've been slowly meeting them while doing laundry, and many of them seem very nice) and she's lived here a long time and was able to tell me some interesting things. First, the woman who lived in the apartment I'm now in before I came here left on account of the bed bugs, and apparently this plague is particularly limited to the E line of apartments. Just my fricken luck. She mentioned that a bunch of others have had the problem, and that what I needed to do was call the landlord and have them arrange for an exterminator, an incredibly obvious solution that I hadn't thought of at all. And so I called them, and received in return the promise that an exterminator would come (I requested April 1st so I could finish the grants) and that they would pay. But they also sent me the list of doom.

The list of doom is the list of activities that I have to do before the exterminators come in order to ensure that the bugs actually get killed. And the list is truly horrifying. Amongst it's requirements are:

1. Wash all bedding including sheets, comforters, and pillows; wash all clothing. Yes, ALL. Every piece of fabric in your home, basically, needs to be washed in hot, hot water and dried in hot, hot driers. This is the first impossible item on the list. I cannot do this. I have too many delicate items, many of which I made; I also have two crates of cloth. So I'm going to do what I can - wash everything possible, get rid of a bunch of things that can't be washed for whatever reason (such as my pillows, which will have to be replaced). The crates of cloth are sealed, and I'm going to trust to that to have kept them safe. The clothing which can't be washed I'm going to take some to the dry cleaners, and the rest is stuff that I don't need very often, and so I'm going to take it all, place it in plastic crate, and leave it in there, sealed, for at least a year. My understanding is that by then even the eggs will be dead, and the threat will be abated. I can store the stuff that long.

2. Vacuum everything, including sofas, chairs, and shoes. Not so bad. I can do that. However, I figure the eggs probably get on socks, too, which means that they're inside the two pairs of shows I've been wearing most. I'm not even going to worry about my nice leather boots, I just won't wear them again until this is sorted out, but my sneakers and my hiking boots are a serious problem. Fortunately, both are also pretty worn out, so I'm planning on just replacing both. By the way, don't ask me where the money for all this shit is coming from. April is tax month, and I'm going to be broke. Thankfully, my cards are both pretty low, and I'll be able to pay them back once I've paid my taxes.

3. Empty beneath the bed. Underneath my bed right now are about 40 boxes, many pretty new - over $100 worth of boxes. Also prime bed bug territory. I'm just going to throw away the lot of them, for all that it's upsetting and a waste. If they've got bed bugs any where near them, they won't do me any good anyway - there's no way I'm taking bug-infested boxes to any place I move.

4. This is the doozy. A direct quote. "Empty all closets, dressers, bookshelves, wall units, etc. throughout the residence. All items that have been removed from these areas should be inspected, cleaned and put into plastic bags and sealed tightly."

Oh my fucking god. So for those who don't know, I own over 3000 books, and the majority are kept in my bedroom. I've also got tons of crap in my closets. Basically, what they're telling me to do is to get one step short of moving out of my apartment. I'm going to have to disassemble EVERYTHING. The prospect of having to do this, and inspect the books, and vacuum everything, is enough to make me nauseous, and seems to make the chances low that I'll actually be able to get rid of this infestation. Obviously, I guess I'll try to get rid of as much as I can, but I did just move 3 months ago, and I got rid of a lot of stuff then - I've culled the herds already, so to speak.

Oh, and I have to take down all of the pictures, and vacuum their backs. Because, you know, bed bugs crawl up walls.

5. The super of my building wants to come into the apartment and re-seal all of the cracks around the bases of the walls. This means I have to move all of the furniture away from the walls on top of everything else.

Okay, so this is all pretty shitty, right? I have to take all of my belongings out, wash every bit of clothing, figure out a place to put everything else out of the way - but only after going through it all, vacuuming it all (have I mentioned that I don't even own a fucking vacuum cleaner?) and seal it all in plastic bags - which I have to make sure don't tear, or else bugs might get in, and I probably should throw the vacuum out when I'm done - just in case. But hey, it's done, and then it's done right?

Oh no. That'd be way too easy. Because then there is item 6.

6. "YOU MUST KEEP ALL AREAS SUCH AS CLOSETS, DRESSERS, BOOKSELVES, ETC. EMPTY FOR THE FOLLOW UP TREATMENT. IT IS THE CUSTOMER'S RESPONSIBILITY TO CALL FOR THE FOLLOW-UP SERVICE APPROXIMATELY 3 WEEKS AFTER THE ORIGINAL TREATMENT." I've added the all caps for emphasis. Yes, not only do I have to destroy my neatly unpacked home, but then I have to leave it that way for 3 ENTIRE WEEKS.

7. Oh, and finally, just to add insult to injury, I will now have to permanently keep my mattresses in special covers so that the horrible chemicals don't poison me.

Forgive my ranting, but I'm finding this rather incredibly hard to cope with. Is it becoming clear why I'm finding work to be more than I can handle? I've got this shit hanging over my head - and I'm waking up with new bites every morning, with the most recent addition on my left boob. Seriously. Don't get me wrong - everything I've read indicates that bed bugs are harmless. They're insidious, annoying, raving bloodsuckers, but they can't actually hurt you, just leave you with embarrassing and obvious bumps that itch. As in, just annoying enough to be unacceptable room mates.

I don't handle disorganization well. In fact, within a few days it renders me truly neurotic to have my home be a mess. I really, really can't handle it. This is why I'd completely unpacked EVERYTHING less than a month after moving in to my current apartment (the only boxes in my home contain Halloween decorations, and the things I don't use often are stored in plastic crates) - I know what's in every box and every place, and I've gone through all of it at least once in the past year to be sure I've only kept what I want).

I also go stir crazy when there's nothing up on my walls. It makes me feel like my home isn't a place where I live. I can't handle this, either.

So basically, there will be a three week period where I won't be able to handle living in my own home. Specifically, April 1st to April 22nd. I've given myself four days to get everything ready after we submit the grants. Oh, and I also have a meeting one of the four days, and I have to do my taxes somewhere in there, too. Because taxes have got to get paid, and if I don't gather the materials now, all of my papers will be in sealed plastic bags. God, I'm going to need so many fricken plastic bags...

The only solution I've been able to concoct to this rather intractable situation is a pretty lousy one, but the best I've been able to do. I've been really working on getting excited about this solution, but the problem is that I'm already exhausted, and I'll be more exhausted before this whole process is over. Still, I've really been trying to get enthusiastic about my solution. It could be fun! It fits with plans I'd already made! Too explain...

Mom and I had planned to go to Philly for about 5 days in early April. My current plan is to expand on this. I'm gonna pack up some clothes (washed and immediately bagged to protect them) and some books (vacuumed, of course. Maybe if I microwave them, that'll kill the bugs...oh wait, I don't own a microwave) and the dog (who apparently isn't palatable for the bugs. God I hope that's true) and toss it all in my car, and just fucking leave for three weeks. I'll go to Philly, maybe do some hiking in Jersey or upstate NY, wander over to Gettysburg and Antietam, maybe go to those gardens in Delaware that my dad is talking about. If I get bored, I can always head to Boston - though it's more expensive. And I have to stay close to NYC, because

ultimabaka and I are planning to spend a ludicrous amount of money in order to go to the Mets home opener, and I've already invited my dad (it's only 5 days before his birthday), and basically it's the experience of a life time and there's no way in hell I'm missing it.

It could be a lot of fun - it's really just a consolidation of a bunch of smaller trips that I was planning on taking anyway over the course of the next 6 months or so.

The problem is...I'm already exhausted. I don't want to adventure. I want to curl up on the couch, watch TV, and read. IN MY OWN HOME. WITH MY OWN STUFF. WHICH I'VE UNPACKED ALL OF.

It's just very hard to look on the bright side at this point. (Hey, I'll be able to use this as a chance to organize my books! Hey, the need to store some of my clutter for an extended duration will enable me to straighten up! Hey, it's an opportunity to get rid more things that I'm not using in my new place! Hey, it's an excuse to flee the general vicinity and work from the road! Hey, I can make sure I actually do all of those things I've been talking about doing but in all likelihood would have found a way to dodge! Hey...)

But I was just starting to get everything going right! I was on top of all the evaluations. I was on top of all my grant writing. I was all unpacked. I'd just cleaned my whole apartment less than week before this started! I've been going to the gym, and slowly losing weight. Just what I didn't want or need just now was something that would completely disrupt my whole life. And I'll get to return home to the prospect of a disaster area, furniture that I'll have to put back, bookshelves to refill, clothes to unpack...and the possibility that despite two treatments my home may still be infested, or could become infested again, and I might have to do the WHOLE THING AGAIN.

How I've been dealing with this in the short term is complete disconnection. This post is by far the most I've talked about it, or even thought about, because I simply cannot handle facing it right now. I've even distanced this post from my actual emotional response by posting it as an angry rant. But if I poke the part of my brain trying to cope with this, it's not anger that I really feel - it's hopeless defeat. Why now? But I can't deal with that, so I'm just ignoring it. I've resorted to a defense mechanism from when I was younger - I've just shut down the parts of my brain that would produce an emotional response, and instead I'm just digging in my heels and getting shit done.

Because I'm so far past the point of having a choice.

So in short, life really sucks right now. I can't believe I wrote so much about this. But it's had the admirable effect of delaying my dog, who has been trying to convince me to take her out early for more than an hour...