Operation Die F***ers, Die

I’m sorry if the title of this entry has shocked you, but I’m sure you’ll understand if you read on. I’ll tell you a little story which is not for the faint at heart. You probably don’t want to hear it, but I’ll tell you anyways. It’s good for you, it’ll make you feel all the happier about your own situation.

Back in the good old days, I used to throw my clothes on the floor (I know, it seems strange to me now too, but that’s what I was like). Then one not so fine day last autumn I was picking up clothes from the floor to wash, and underneath there were these horrible looking bugs which I had never seen before in my life. It was one of the most disgusting moments in my entire life, I tell you. I will never be the same again, and I will sure as hell never throw any fabric on the floor ever again.

I discussed the issue with my supervisor, who informed me that these were probably carpet beetle larvae, apparently a common infestation in old houses here in Helsinki. Although knowledge and understanding usually provides some comfort, this time I was infinitely more disgusted when I started reading about these bugs and found out that they eat natural fibers. In general, bugs are rather revolting, but when they feed off your body or belongings they bring disgusting to a whole new level.

In Iceland we don’t have many bugs, in fact we have so few that Finland and its insect life is exotic to me. I have learnt many things while living here, for example it is apparently so that all beetles can fly, who knew?! In my memory there are two types of beetles in Iceland, blacksmiths and something similar but grayish brown in color and I’ve never seen them fly. I have also learned that bees (or “bee-flies” in Icelandic) and mosquitos are not flies at all, and I received laughter and ridicule from my best friend Markus, who is Finnish, when I insisted that they were. They fly, don’t they? Ergo they are flies! But that’s beside the point.

After gathering information on carpet beetles I went into action. My vacuum cleaner became my best friend and most cherished possession (usually that’s my espresso machine). All clothes were shaken, stirred and washed, closets were vacuumed and wiped, wool was put in bags and into the freezer. Last but not least, insecticide was sprayed like there was no tomorrow. I even contacted the janitor and tried to convince him to have a house meeting where it should be agreed to call in exterminators, whatever the price. I haven’t heard from him since.

Things were quiet during the winter months, and I didn’t see any bugs on my crawling tours along the floor lists (that’s were they hung out). They hadn’t gotten to my clothes yet, and I happily thought that was the end of the story. Until two weeks ago. I noticed a black blob on my bedroom floor which turned out to be a dead beetle. Being optimistic by nature I tried to convince myself that it had to have flown in through the window, maybe it was just a beetle, not The Beetle, but deep in my heart I knew the bitter truth. Yesterday I found another beetle hanging around by the floor lists, and that one was freaking alive. Excusez moi when I say the F-word very loudly: F***!

There is wool all over my apartment. I am not careful to keep it in plastic bins or zip-lock bags. I think it’s a nice and colorful interior decoration item, so it’s lying in baskets all around, naked and exposed. I love my wool, and to me it’s just plain wrong to hide it. Part of this probably comes from growing up in a country where we don’t really have horrible wool-eating monsters, and when I was reading online about safety measures against these pests it seemed rather odd to me that you should pack wool items in airtight containers when “out of season”. There is no such thing as “out of season” in Iceland, where the average temperature in July is about 12°C (53°F). Why would you pack away your wool?

To make this long story just a bit longer, I can tell you that wool is on its way to the freezer, the vacuum cleaner is my new best friend and insecticide is being sprayed. If you don’t hear from me in a few days, I have passed out from inhaling the fumes. But who cares, as long as these f***ers die.