The morning after

The problem with bed bugs is more psychological than physical. After being bitten a few times I become 100 times shy. Throughout the night, whenever I woke, I imagined the little fuckers crawling on me. My ankle was suddenly itchy as hell, but there were no bites I could feel after I scratched. It was nothing more than the prickly sensations one gets when he gets too hot. Even sitting here typing this, still without clothes on, I am too warm and I can imagine them crawling on me, which they are not. I tell myself they are no worse than mosquitoes, and I have heard they carry fewer diseases, but somehow they creep me out so much more. It will take me the whole week to convince myself I'm not being bitten, but I passed the first night on the living room futon unscathed.

Brian and Dean took me out for a Greek dinner at Taki's Taverna last night and afterwards I stayed home while they went out to the Pumpjack Pub up the street. They came back a couple hours later, still a little exhausted by the 3-hour time change. They bought a shit load of groceries before dinner, and ground coffee after dinner, so I suppose we are eating in this morning. At 7:45 am it is still grey and dull so I doubt Dean will have his day on Wreck Beach as he had hoped.