Thursday, Sept. 04, 2003 - 10:56 a.m.
Usually I avoid Bill the Bug Man at all costs. He's very sweet, but he does go on...and on. He always calls the night before he comes, leaving me the same message: "Haaa [that's South Carolinian for 'Hi']. This is Beeeel the Bug Man. I'll be in your area tomorrow."
So I always know I'll have to be out of the house by about 10 AM, but sometimes it doesn't happen. Once, when I was home working on my thesis, I was so desperate not to be distracted by a 20-minute conversation that I ran outside while he was in the apartment next door, jumped in my car barefoot and in pajamas, and drove around the block until he left.
If I'm not here when he comes by, Bill the Bug Man leaves me a note on a paper towel. Invariably it says "Thanks. Bill The, Bug Man" The comma is always after 'the'. Only once, near Christmas, did he write something different: "Ho Ho Ho Bill The, Bug Man". I keep a collection of these paper towels magneted to my fridge. I'm sure that's why he keeps leaving them.
Today when the knock came, I knew I couldn't avoid him. He really is a wonderful man, if highly irritating...so I steeled myself and opened the door.
And there you have Bill the Bug Man, though in truncated form.