Here's a picture of the weapon (it's wet because we watered down the evidence):
Here's a picture of the back-up weapons that we had on hand...you know, just in case:
Everyone knows how DEATHLY afraid of bees, wasps, hornets, etc. I am. As I was sitting at the kitchen table, minding my own business, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I figured it was just a moth or something that came in to say during our party Saturday afternoon and got stuck. My heart stopped for a minute when I realized that it was a WASP and not a moth. Wasps can sting you more than once, which makes them even worse. And unlike spiders that can's really move that quickly, anything that flies CAN and that is teeeeeerrifying to me. After I screamed like a little girl, and ran to the other side of the room to grab spray and a towel, I realized that I couldn't just leave it there...I had to WATCH it so that I would know where it was at all times. I mustered up enough courage to get my phone from the table, and I did what any normal, sane person would do.
I called Cory. Isn't that why people get married?! I guess not; Selena used to handle all of that stuff before. I guess every relationship has a designated person to handle such crises.
Anyhow...Cory rushed home from work 15 minutes before a work meeting to be my knight in shining armor. He realized that the jet stream of the spray would not allow him to remain at a safe/comfortable distance away from the victim, so he opted to use the broom for blunt force trauma. He looked at me, looked at the wasp, said, "This is a one-shot deal and I can't miss." Then he gave me nugs (is that what you call a high-five but with your knuckles?). He took a deep breathe, rammed that thing as hard as he could, and I started laughing uncontrollably. Here he is, 6'2 (I think) with broad shoulders, and he's launching this broom in a harpoon-style motion (like they do on Wicked Tuna) at an insect that isn't much bigger than his thumb. I'm laughing and cheering, and he's yelling at me because it isn't dead yet and here-to-fore isn't time to celebrate the homicide. He wouldn't let me take a video or a picture, but I wish I had done it anyway because it was awesome!
"I wonder how it got in," he says to me, "because we haven't had any doors open since the parts on Saturday." OMG, it's been in our house since SATURDAY?! I've been cohabiting with this thing since SATURDAY?! You've got to be kidding me. Then he tells me not to worry since it could have just come from a nest in the house. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
I watched a scary movie about bees invading a house on some cable channel when I was in 4th grade (cleverly titled "Attack of the Bees" or something like that), and then saw news reports the following week that said we were being invaded by Africanized honey bees in Southern California. I made my mom order the pamphlet of information, I wrote a report on it, I was forced to go to the Santa Ana Zoo a few months later that was INFESTED with bees, and I just haven't been the same ever since.
I. HATE. FLYING. INSECTS. THAT. STING.
I eventually made it to the grocery store and rewarded myself with my favorites:
To end today on a positive note, I brought some mango lemonade with me to work.
My biggest accomplishment of the day so far: packing the EXACT right proportion of apple slices and peanut butter.
