Wasps Are Out to Get MePosted: May 11, 2013
I have a fear of wasps and bees. Some call it irrational, but I don’t see what’s so irrational of being frightened of something that can FLY IN YOUR HAIR and STING YOU TO DEATH!
Anyway, this past March our house was infested with wasps. It wasn’t a great time for me. There was lots of swearing and chasing the flying horrors around with 409, followed by lots of shuddering and more swearing.
Eventually we found the reason for the infestation–apparently wasps can get in through uncovered outlets in your house. Thankfully, once we got the outlets covered the wasps disappeared and I enjoyed a peaceful month of no stinger-clad insects.
Then warmer weather (finally) arrived and the wasps returned to the great outdoors. For the most part I keep my distance from flying things with stingers, but sometimes it’s impossible to avoid them–like the other day when I went to check the mail. I opened up our mailbox only to find a tiny black and yellow blur launching itself at my face. I dove to the side and started swearing. The wasp was very upset that I interrupted it’s quiet time in our mailbox and I continued to hear his angry buzz in the air. I ran back to the house and informed my husband that he needed to get the mail.
The next morning, I walked back to the mailbox to put a letter out to be mailed. A terrifying sight greeted me when I opened the mailbox door: A giant wasp sitting on the inside of the door, his wings flicking in the cool morning air. I leaped to the side and started swearing (okay, you might have guessed by now that I use profanity when facing my fears). Holding my letter in my hand, I cautiously approached the mailbox. The wasp was crawling lethargically on the mailbox. I had two choices. Either I could storm back to the house and not send my mail or I could take on my terrible foe.
I decided it was a morning for courage.
Slipping off my shoe, I hopped to the mailbox. The wasp sleepily flipped it’s wings, unaware that its vanquisher had arrived. Taking a deep breath, I raised my shoe in the air and smacked the mailbox door as hard as I could. Then I smacked it again. And again. And, just to be certain the wasp was dead, I hit the door one more time.
Deciding that the wasp was deceased, I stopped hitting the mailbox and shuddered. My enemy was dead. Then I looked at my shoe in my hand and realized that I was standing in the street with one shoe off, beating my mailbox and yelling. I probably looked insane.
But, really, what how is that unusual from any other day?