Two summers ago I was sitting on my couch one weekend morning, reading. I’d noticed that I was itching a bit, but didn’t think much of it until my hippie-chick upstairs neighbor came down and knocked on my back door. She and her boyfriend had bedbugs, she said. She thought they’d picked them up in a San Francisco squat they’d recently stayed at. But they didn’t want to use chemicals, and so were trying to get rid of them by other means. Great.