Beeees!
There are two situations in which you can see me acting a fool. 1. improv class 2. in the presence of insects.
I went up to my attic this evening, I forget the reason now, as when I got there, I discovered a small but growing bees nest in the corner of the old skylight. Cue my first panic dance. I took stock. The window opens, reluctantly, when you push on the end in which they are currently habitating. My attic has dressses, luggage, skis and a bow and arrows.
It wasn't until I was attempting to push the window open with a ski pole and shoo the bees out with an arrow that I remembered that I had some bee spray in the kitchen. Forget about it! This will totally work! I reiterated to myself. I got the window open and attempt to push the hive out of it when it broke off and just fell on the floor. Cue the panic dance and run away shouting. I abandoned my weapons and ran downstairs to retrieve the spray (as I should have in the first place).
I crept back up the stairs all of my senses focused on not encountering a bee. It wasn't until I was climbing the attic stairs that I thought I should probably have shoes on. Forget about it! Who needs shoes! I reiterated to myself. I made it to the scene and sprayed at the confused bees who had conveniently not scattered. I grabbed my ski pole and brandished it like it was actually an effective weapon against bees.
Once the danger passed (I threw a box on the last struggling bee), I felt victorious. Only now I realize that my attic is now strewn with bee carcases, ski supplies, and arrows. Not to mention a fair puddle of poision that I will get to clean up tomorrow.
Oh, my simple life!
I went up to my attic this evening, I forget the reason now, as when I got there, I discovered a small but growing bees nest in the corner of the old skylight. Cue my first panic dance. I took stock. The window opens, reluctantly, when you push on the end in which they are currently habitating. My attic has dressses, luggage, skis and a bow and arrows.
It wasn't until I was attempting to push the window open with a ski pole and shoo the bees out with an arrow that I remembered that I had some bee spray in the kitchen. Forget about it! This will totally work! I reiterated to myself. I got the window open and attempt to push the hive out of it when it broke off and just fell on the floor. Cue the panic dance and run away shouting. I abandoned my weapons and ran downstairs to retrieve the spray (as I should have in the first place).
I crept back up the stairs all of my senses focused on not encountering a bee. It wasn't until I was climbing the attic stairs that I thought I should probably have shoes on. Forget about it! Who needs shoes! I reiterated to myself. I made it to the scene and sprayed at the confused bees who had conveniently not scattered. I grabbed my ski pole and brandished it like it was actually an effective weapon against bees.
Once the danger passed (I threw a box on the last struggling bee), I felt victorious. Only now I realize that my attic is now strewn with bee carcases, ski supplies, and arrows. Not to mention a fair puddle of poision that I will get to clean up tomorrow.
Oh, my simple life!
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