Renter Finds Roomies Are Pests
Been in the Newport Beach digs for four full months now, and the creepy-crawly count is up to six. Not six bugs -- six different kinds of bugs.
Given that I signed a lease to live in an apartment and not the headquarters of Orange County Vector Control, the number seems excessive.
I know what you’re saying: “What kind of a dope complains about living in Newport Beach?”
Mind you, I’m not. Who wouldn’t feel blessed living in the 92660 and within walking distance of Fashion Island?
It’s just that after a gritty little guy pulls himself up during the course of a lifetime from a hardscrabble existence in a dusty Nebraska town to the wonders of The O.C., you’d think he’d be entitled to a bug-free environment. Especially at this rent.
Instead, it’s a constant vigil. Watching TV or listening to music in the dark? Forget about it. That’s when my new neighbors like to come out from their hiding places and start playing head games with me.
Since Feb. 1, in no particular order, I’ve dueled ants, silverfish, spiders (daddy longlegs and others), a millipede (scariest offender so far), a ladybug and a moth.
I’ve been bugged by bugs all my life. Who can say where it all started. Probably a shriek from a sister that frightened me as a young boy and created an associative disorder of some kind. Or maybe it is just all those legs.
I wish I were more like Cecilia Schreyer. She’s a teacher and environmentalist. She was on an outing in Balboa Park in San Diego on Saturday when I tracked her down by cellphone to ask why people like her have made peace with our creepy companions.
“There are bugs I’m afraid of, and bugs I’m not afraid of,” she says. Surely you’re afraid of spiders, I suggest.
“You just trap them and put them outside,” she says. I wonder if she knows they just find their way back inside.
“I’m interested in natural history and bugs just happen to be part of that,” Schreyer says. “They’re very important. They’re way more important than all the mammals to the ecosystem.”
I didn’t ask her why, and quite frankly, I am not so concerned with the bugs in the ecosystem. It is the ones in my apartment that bug me.
Like the spider that just dropped on my lap last weekend while I was sitting in my easy chair chatting with a friend over the phone. I frantically brushed it off, but didn’t see where it went so that I could deliver the knockout blow.
“How could a spider just land on me?” I asked, somewhat discombobulated. My friend suggested it must have lost its footing on an overhead beam and, by chance, landed on me. I think he was guessing.
A minute or two later, I saw a spider making for the front door.
“Is that it?” I shouted. “Yes!” my friend said, guessing again.
I pounced and, regrettably, probably used excessive force.
But I had an excuse. Just a few nights earlier, I was lying in bed when I felt something on my forehead. Thinking it was a pillowcase flap, I brushed it away. Maybe you don’t mind seeing a spider on your sheet at 2 in the morning, but I do. Sleep did not come easily after that.
The apartment managers blithely say that because we live in a heavily treed complex, bugs are inevitable. The trees add to the charm of the place, they say, and I must agree. The rustic look was one of the selling points.
So, four months into it, I’m still learning to cope with my new neighbors. I’ve eliminated ants by keeping no food in the house. The moth flew off somewhere and I haven’t seen it since. As for spiders, my new policy is to turn on lights when I get home and leave them on till I go to bed. My apartment now is brighter than the Bellagio.
When I moved in, I fretted about loud stereos or people taking my parking spot.
Little did I suspect that in my new high-rent district, surrounded by the hipness of The O.C., the only creepy neighbors would be creepy-crawlers.
And it’s not even flea season yet.
Dana Parsons can be reached at (714) 966-7821 or at dana.parsons@latimes.com.
