living with bed bugs

Last night I slept almost eight hours.  Today I made chicken soup.  Whatever else is going on, I am not going to get sick on top of everything else.  I’ve had bronchitis every year for the last four and it is not going to happen this year.  I’m determined.  I don’t care if I wake up covered in bites (which I am) I am going to sleep, god dammit.

Mars is moving up to five degrees Libra squaring my natal Venus next week, which incidentally is when the exterminators are coming back to my unit, and I’m not taking any chances.  Mars is typically not so nice to me, and with everything going on right now I don’t trust him even a little bit.  So I’m going to be extra good.

I’m miserable, I can’t lie, bed bugs are no joke, they make everything worse, unless you’ve ever been through it, you just can’t know.  I can’t do much about my situation, but I can be kind to myself and my body.  It feels good to wash my dishes, to keep the parts of my room straightened that aren’t choked by plastic bags, and burn some lavender oil.  It feels good to go outside, get some air, walk around the park, feel the breeze on my face.  It feels good to be rested.

When the little things are the best things they really don’t seem so little anymore.  There’s a trick to living in denial and it has to do with selectivity.  Ignore what you don’t want to deal with and focus only on what makes you happy.  Obviously this isn’t something you want to take too far, but honestly, it beats the alternative when the alternative is thinking about how when you’re asleep you will be attacked by a hoard of miniature vampires.  (In case it’s not obvious, clicking on that link will give you nightmares – even I haven’t watched it, do you think I could write this post if I had?!  I mean, come ON)