Rocking Chair

I found a perfectly good rocking chair down by the dumpster. It was wooden, with nice soft cushions. I actually sat in it and rocked back and forth right next to the dumpster. It was light, so I carried it home and placed it in my bedroom, where it was blocking a closet, but that was temporary. Soon I would replace my ratty old recliner with this baby, opening up more room in my parlor.
Of course I would have to pay the super to help me get the recliner out, so my rocker wasn't completely free. Frankly, I don't know how movers got the recliner into my place, the doorway is barely wide enough. But if you saw the quality and felt the comfort of that rocker you would understand my jettisoning an old friend.
My brother and sister-in-law understood nothing. They looked at me like I was crazy. Did you ever stop to wonder why anyone would toss out a perfectly good rocker, they asked. Actually, I hadn't. They said one word--bedbugs. My response was 'huh?' The more they talked, the more I realized they had a point. I may have innocently brought in millions of bedbugs to my condo. The more they stared at me the more I also concluded they suspected I had brought these critters into their midst.
I was ordered to buy bedbug spray and saturate the thing. I did as told, furious at the criminal who left the rocker out where any idiot could take it. I've spent the last three days spraying it, leaving the windows open, with my door closed. I hesitate to use my bed or dress there. This morning there were red patches on my cheeks. Oh God, has the onslaught begun?