Sting THIS!

Imagine. (In a real-life-kind-of-way). We are in the backyard, watching our cucumber plant grow right before our eyes. I look up. Squint. Peer a little harder. Oh no. No, no, no. I don't like what I see.

Seth? I think there's a wasp nest up there. Right there, under the eaves. He looks and agrees. He informs me he will just "knock it down". Knock it down? Can you do that? Won't they attack?

No Geri, you'll be fine. I will just lean out our bedroom window (the room in which I'd prefer to sleep without bee-infested nightmares) and hit it down with a broom. Then we'll spray and hopefully keep them away.

Flash forward to the next day.

(Let me explain one small detail, our bathroom window is at a right angle to our bedroom/sunroom. Thus, if one balances just right, on the edge of our tub and peers out the window you can look to the right and see into our bedroom.... small detail of importance. Oh, and the wasp nest was in the corner between these windows.)

I am in our bathroom getting ready for the day, Peach Pit is sleeping peacefully and Seth is set to slay wasp nests. Seth wisely shuts the door to the bathroom, and I hear him open our window and remove the screen. I scurry to the bathroom window (no easy task as balancing precariously on the tub's edge is involved). I really want to watch the nest fall and laugh at their unfortunate fate. I look out the window just in time to see Seth slam our window shut, run across the room and slam our door. I then watch as he swings the broom to and fro before pouncing and pounding on what would appear to be wasps.

In. Our. Room.

Panic sets in and survival instincts take over. I leap across the tub and grab a towel mid-leap. Just as I bend over to start stuffing the towel under the door (to prevent wasps from joining me, of course). The door starts to open, the bees have joined forces and are actually turning the knob! I knew it. They hate me. I scream bloody murder as I jump away from the door. When my vision returns I see Seth standing there looking confused as he laughs. I quickly grab him and pull him in with me and finish my job of stuffing the towel under the door.

Seth spends the next 5 minutes reassuring me that the wasps that attempted to launch an interior attack on us made a fatal mistake. He is positive he killed them all. Were it not for my motherly-concern for baby girl, I maybe have taken up residence in the bathroom.

I open the door a crack, peek into our room, tilt my head and listen hard. Not a buzz to be heard. Instead I heard a rhythmic, tapping-like noise on the windows. I look to the windows and discover several irate wasps, in attempts to attack they are repeatedly flying into the window. Suckers.

Seth heads down and disposes of the nest. (That would involve scooping up the now abandoned nest and flinging it into the field, as far from the house as is flingable.)

The following day I'm brushing my teeth and I look out the window. There they are, hovering, watching, waiting. At any given time there were 3 to 5 wasps keeping a watch on me. They are tracking me.

Next step. Home depot. Wasp killer. Ha ha.

Seth has now taken up residence in our sunroom, kickin' back with his feet on the windowsill as he rocks back and forth in an old' creaky rocking chair. He's got a can of wasp spray laying across his lap and a second can in his hand. He's got impeccable aim and can shoot them through the screen, mid-flight. Looks like they've realized they were in hostile territory, and have moved on.

See ya later, stingers.

Seth & the newly abandoned nest. Sorry for lack of pictures, I was busy cowering.