Every once in a while, you run across a hand-written account from one of the early settlers who traveled across the great heartland of America in a Conestoga Wagon.
Although there were many hardships–like rain, floods, broken wagon wheels, attacking Indians and creatures trying to maul them–I do not recall any of these frontiersmen complaining about bedbugs.
I’m sure they had them. But keeping a perspective on their lives, being chomped on by a ravenous bear probably took precedence.
But now we live in a world where we have so few problems in comparison to our forefathers that we have the luxury of focusing on miniscule concerns to terrorize ourselves into believing our lives are really adventurous.
I stay in roadside accommodations all the time and I am quite sure that the quality of the inn that I’ve selected for my holiday is not necessarily the Best Western just because I’ve paid more than six dollars for my motel.
Bedbugs like people.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with us avoiding their advances, but I think it’s optimistic to believe that our personal beds at home have any fewer of the critters than those in commercial locations.
So I think it’s just fine to be conscientious about avoiding bedbugs–as long as we aren’t obsessed and fearful of sharing a bed with one.
After all, if you’re frightened of bloodsuckers, politics makes strange bedfellows.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix