Listening to: The ever present construction noise. Seriously – I don’t recall voluntarily deciding to live in a construction site.
Hello, hope everyone is having a brilliant week. I’m in an especially happy mood today because we only have 2 more days before Daddy G is back in India. Yay!
I was contemplating things today as I was making out with/drinking my morning coffee. I started out by having a serious fantasy about some pasta. Don’t judge, besides, it was a lot less hot than you think, it was all about me eating some Thai flavored pasta. Then I moved on to the problem of the bees.
Before we get to the actual problem, let me let you in on a secret: I am seriously afraid of bees. Like the kind of afraid that includes me flailing my arms wildly (I know, that pisses them off, but it’s an unconscious response) ducking when they dive bomb (you can’t tell me that random flight at my head wasn’t intentional!) and running out of a room if one is there. Of course this amuses Daddy G to no end. Anything that flies and has the capacity to sting me generally inspires massive panic attacks from me. I know we need them to survive, I just don't need them to be near me.
In India, we have a various assortment of bees and wasps. Of course there was the evil wasp/hornet that stung me in Delhi. Worst. Sting. Ever. I seriously wanted a horse tranquilizer after that – it was that painful.
This is exactly what evil looks like. It was huge.
Then we have the standard rock bees, which of course build nests in my apartment complex. They’re pretty harmless if you leave them alone, but in the night, they like florescent lighting and tend to careen around wildly once they find their way in your house, stinging you if you get in the way. Think giant honey bees.
Hives of evil.
For honey bees, Indian rock bees are pretty darn big too.
After a while, they get a bit gimpy and end up crawling across the floor. This is when the flip flops came out. I ended up killing almost all of them and sweeping them up. No way in Timbuktu I was going to step on any of them in my dazed stumble for the coffee in the morning. *Shudder* I’m not even sure if they were bees, but I still can’t stand them. Turns out one of my lovely offspring left the porch door open a smidge, which may as well have been a hand written invitation for these guys to come party at my house. Thanks a lot kid.