Pest control was meant to come last weekend. They didn’t – I followed all the instructions, packed away my dishes in the oven and the refrigerator, covered all kitchen appliances, boxed up all my food including the tea bags so of course they didn’t – but I expected them to, when I left town. It was the weekend of my best friend’s bridal shower. I was renting a car and getting out of town, so of course, that week, I received a notice, slipped under the door.
“Pest control will be treating all units on Saturday, June 3rd, from 9am to 11pm,” the management company wrote. That’s an agonizingly long window to be waiting on an intruder, if you’re home. But I was not going to be home. My cat was. Dottie is notoriously bad at crafts; no way could I trust her to help set up a bridal shower. If you’re not present, and a strange person is supposed to enter your home and spray your belongings/dishes/food/cat with poison, the anxiety and the wondering are even worse. I set up my security camera, training it on the door, setting it to “motion activate” mode, and then I made signs.
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