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January 4, 2013
One of the perks of living in a "parlor level" apartment in a row of very old buildings in a Manhattan neighborhood is the spritely company of water bugs (they prefer this to "fucking huge-ass cockroaches"). On days when they've read the latest favorable Yelp reviews, I've been the hostess to up to half a dozen guests, none of whom were invited and none of whom are welcome. Some of them are fortunate enough to be escorted onto the patio, but most, alas, are, shall we say, snubbed, by my maitre d' who just so happens to be a cat.