. . . so I get home, looking forward to an evening of reading and writing, when I see a truck with hoses going up to the units above mine. The truck’s side reads:
Oh no no NO! My mind flashes back to that Chinese fast food place in a mall that was forced to shut down not that many years ago because cockroaches were going through the wall into the furniture store next door. What things have been driven down by the pesticide into my unit?
And the hoses snaking upstairs are huge—I’m writing my mashup of The War of the Worlds, so the hoses are kind of like:
You got a bug problem?
You get the idea.
Composing myself, I walk up to a worker who has his breathing mask lowered. I ask in a casual tone, “What kind of pests did they have?”
He replies, “We’re just installing insulation.”
Oh. They use their hoses for more than one purpose.
Just glad I didn’t freak out.