“Do you have bugs? Any bugs here?” You ask as I let you in. I say no. “Good. Let’s go.” You bark, turning to the Orkin man who stands his ground clarifying for what must be the hundredth time due to the look of frustration branded on his face that he is required to do a routine check for pests. As he looks under the sink you raise you arms and pose the eternal question: “If there no bugs here, then why are we here?” In a misguided attempt to help justify your visit I share how occasionally there are moths that fly into my apartment when I leave the balcony door open. Your eyes turn cold. “There are bugs here? You said there was no bugs and now there is?” The Orkin man sighs. I shake my head and backtrack. “Once. There was one bug once.” This seems to satisfy and you turn to leave, arms still in the air, calling to the Orkin man, “Good, let’s go”.