Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

Satan's Minions

April 18, 2002 ... 12:14 p.m.

Satan's Minions

This summer is going to be hot and dry.

That's fine.

It will be THE SUMMER OF THE WASPS.

That is soooooo not fine.

I also do not mean "wasp" as a acronym.

No, I mean those horrible winged stinging creatures. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I am terrified of bees and wasps and their ilk.

Some people have a fear of flying or heights or spiders. Not me. I can barely watch Winnie the Pooh. That honey tree?

[shudder]

Anyway, wasps are drawn to this house like magnet. They sneak in our front door, there is something about our back deck that they love and Mom got stung on her foot by one that had snuck in the front door a couple of days ago. But this morning.......

The HORROR........

I woke up early and OH MY GOD there were 4 wasps crawling around on my bedroom window screen. On the inside. In. My. Room. 4! Four. F.O.U.R.!

I slammed the window shut and...

Okay, that's a lie....

I screamed in horror and fright. (Jamie Lee Curtis ain't got nothin on me!) Bootsie started running back to my room to see who was murdering me, as I was screaming "Bootsie! Bootsie! Help!" She slammed down my window.

What do you people want? I said I was terrified!

And I haven't been in my room since 5 o'clock this morning. I haven't gone to the bathroom because the bathroom is on the same side of the house as my room. With. Four. Wasps.

I suppose I should get some wasp spray and have Mom or Bootsie humanely put them out of my misery.

But I think I'll let them die slow, painful, agonizing deaths from starvation.

Because I'm just that way.

As I am typing this, there are two wasps flying around the deck door. They're probably looking for a way in so that they can free their wasp brethren and then all six can chase me down and sting me to death.

I'm sure Tinker would reward them handsomely for their troubles.

One time, when I was 15 or so, the people I was babysitting for drove me home after dark. It was September, I think--the nights were becoming chilly and I was wearing a sweatshirt. I came in the front door and turned down the hall to go to my bedroom. Instead, I decided to go talk with Mom in the living room.

I went into the living room and Mom asked "What's on your shirt?"

"I dunno" I answered.

"On your sleeve?" she insisted.

As I flapped my sleeves I said "Nothing."

And then...(me) "Aaa! Wasp! It's a wasp! Mom!"

And my loving mother said......"Get out of my house."

Granted, she wanted to shoo it off of me outside, but to a hysterical 15 year old, it sounded like a proclamation of banishment.

"Mooooooommmmmm" I wailed

By this time Bootsie was up, to see what the commotion was. I got out on the front stoop and tried to flap my sleeve to dump the wasp. Instead, the damn thing crawled up my arm into my hair.

For those of you wondering why someone didn't just squash it...I was in full blown panic mode. Bootsie was afraid of me and Mom was afraid I'd be allergic to it as I am to many, many, many other things.

Also, it was night time, we only had a small porch light and I have very dark hair--Mom couldn't see the damn thing and have I mentioned I was near mental collapse?

What??? Again, I say...I AM TERRIFIED OF WINGED STINGING CREATURES!!

So, Mom calls the emergency room. Seem overdramatic? Remember: dark, hysterical teenager, never stung before, possibly allergic, wasp in. My. HAIR.

They ask where the wasp is. "On her head," Mom says. They tell her to smack it between two boards. The wasp. Smack the wasp between two boards. At least, I hope that is what they meant.

Or, they said, set a rolled up newspaper on fire and wave it around her head. You know, smoke it off.

These are medcal proffessionals, people.

By this time, the wasp (which we later figured was sick/dying from the cool temps) had crawled its way into my bangs. On my face. Right next to my eye. I had a sudden, involuntary reaction. I jumped and swatted my bangs. The wasp fell off, I ran inside, Bootsie got some shoes on and smushed it.

The ending was kind of anticlimatic, but this is an example of the fear I have of wasps and bees.

I have never used that stoop since, either. For ten years, it's been enter through the garage or back door. No stoop.

~*~

Have a happy wasp-free day!

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