Dear Carpet Beetles,
We’ve been co-habitating for a year now (to my knowledge. It could be longer but I don’t want to think about that), and I think it’s past time for you to move on.
I miss my clothes. I miss my sweaters and cardigans; my cute skirts and seasonal pants. I miss my seasonal socks. I know you miss them too because you love cashmere and wool as evidenced by the holes you nibbled in some of my favorite shirts.
But it’s more than missing my clothes. I’m tired of you. We’ve had exterminators in the house every few months since January. We were told it would take only a few months to eradicate you, but you have proven to be pernicious. Your hardiness was so impressive that our exterminator’s boss demanded a sample because he could not believe that they had done so much treatment and we still had a problem. The verdict? Carpet beetles. Gee, I knew that after about 30 seconds of Googling last December. Thanks for telling me something I didn’t know.
Today the exterminators were here again, hosing down the interior and exterior of the house. We listened as the manager commented on our furnishings and paintings, teasing the guy he was with that the “girl” in the painting in our living room might be for him. For your edification, sir, the painting is of Circe. She isn’t someone you’d want to date. She turns men into swine.
Did you know, carpet beetles, that you also are extremely tempted by cat hair? Wow. We didn’t know that. It hadn’t come up in ANY of the Googling we had done. Not at all. Maybe we should throw out the cats or contemplate shaving them because every.single.person who comes to our house to deal with the problem mentions the cat hair connection. I appreciate that yes, we need to stay on top of our cats (ha ha not literally), but cat hair is not the root cause of the problem. It’s not like you, carpet beetles, are being generated from cat hair. How about, oh I don’t know, treating the problem???
Your presence is also extremely embarrassing. When I come home, the first thing I do is scour the baseboards for you, and I take too much pleasure in squishing you. It’s probably not healthy to delight in your demise that much. But you also make me feel dirty. How can I have people over when our house seems so disorderd and filthy?
We are not filthy people, carpet beetles, and I suspect that we have been categorized as that by the exterminators and others we come in contact with because of your presence.
The bottom line, carpet beetles, is that you have far outstayed any welcome you had (and you had none) in my house. It’s time for you to move along. I wouldn’t subject anyone else to you, but surely you can find a decent home that will let you consume all the natural fibers you want without devastating anyone.
Thanksgiving is a time meant to put aside differences and come together, celebrating the highs and mourning the lows together. Carpet beetles, you inspire a lot of lows and no highs. I do not celebrate you on Thanksgiving. I do not at all wish you well now or in the upcoming year. May you starve. If I could hit each of you on the head with something really hard, I would.
May we all have wonderful Thanksgivings. And death to you, carpet beetles.