How a $1,200 Mistake Taught Me What Exterminators Never Tell You
My name is Jenna.
I'm 34. I rent an apartment in Portland with my boyfriend.
Eight months ago, I found bed bugs in my mattress.
I know the feeling you get when you confirm it. That cold, crawling dread.
I did what I thought was the smart thing.
I didn't panic. I researched. I made a plan.
Step one: throw out the mattress. If the bugs are in the mattress, get rid of the mattress.
I carried it to the dumpster at 11pm. Not because the building rules required it because I didn't want my neighbors to see.
I was embarrassed.
I ordered a new mattress the next morning. $1,200. Money I didn't really have.
I bought a protective encasement. I washed every piece of clothing, every sheet, every pillowcase in the hottest water my machine allowed.
I vacuumed the entire bedroom. Twice.
I was thorough. I was careful. I was sure I had handled it.
For three weeks, nothing.
No bites. No signs. I let myself breathe.
Then one morning I rolled back the sheet on my brand new mattress.
There was a single bed bug. Right there on the fitted sheet.
I didn't scream.
I didn't cry.
I just sat on the edge of the bed and stared at it.
And for the first time since this started, I stopped asking "how do I get rid of them?"
And started asking: "Why does this keep happening?"