The Bugs

Today, the house was invaded for the first time. It will not be the last until winter comes.

I'm not just talking about the summer heat either. I have my fan, I will live.

No, I'm talking about bugs. You see, most Germans don't believe in bug screens for windows. W., who owns the apartment, never had any made. So we don't have any. At night we can choose between cooling down the place or being bug-free. Of course, there's the third option of sleeping, but even that wouldn't be completely bug-free.

Like I mentioned before, I'm not fond of creatures smaller than me with less than two or more than four legs. It used to be a hysterical fear, of which my family can tell many, many stories that involve screaming, holding my pee for six hours and staying inside all summer long with the windows closed and the blinds down. It got so bad, my mom got me into therapy. I guess seeing your daughter cry for the umpteenth time when her father announces the family is eating outside asks for some kind of action to be taken. Eventually, I even decided it was getting a wee bit out of hand and went along with it.

Therapy did wonders, but it's not a cure-all. I'm currently sitting in a room with the certainty that there's bugs in here. I can see them. Some of them are even flying right in front of my screen, and I'm on a laptop, so the screen is less than a foot away from my face. I'm relatively calm. Five years ago, I'd have been screaming.

On the other hand, if they'd be bigger, or noisier or on me, my heart rate would spike. Boyfriend says that there might be bigger ones coming in August. There might be squealing. If I start getting bitten, I might get less charitable than I am now. If my knitting gets eaten, woe on them.

Yes, I require Boyfriend to save me from the monsters, but that doesn't mean I can't get mad at them. Mad is a slightly more productive emotion than scared. How much do screen windows cost, anyway? Also, can't we just tack old curtains in front of the windows? Would that work?

In the mean while, as long as it's not moths or butterflies and the ones that do get inside remain small and refrain from getting on me, I'm strangely fine with it. For close to ten years, I didn't believe it'd ever be possible for me to be at peace in the situation I am now. My fear isn't gone, but it's matured to something that is less phobia and more quirk.

I'm scared of being stung and creatures that can sting me, because I know there's a fair chance I'll have an allergic reaction to it and I don't know how big it'll be. I freeze up around creatures that haven't stung me in a while, but I rarely scream anymore. That's not unreasonable. My fear of butterflies is unreasonable, but that's because I got shown that the thing I'm afraid of, in some shapes, can grow as large as my face, and hairy too, and feasts on rotting flesh and sweat. It's an unreasonable fear, but my reaction to it has lessened to unreasonable but manageable.

So let the harmless little bugs zoom around the lamp all they like. If they scare me, there's someone close by and willing to save me from them.

Also, we have a strong vacuum cleaner with a long nozzle. I am armed.