Well, it’s wasp season, y’all. And being the single girl living alone that I am requires extra diligence on my part when it comes to bugs (or other rodents) of any kind. There is no one I can yell for to save me when these flying heart attacks come at me. And I’m sure, by now, you’re well aware the direction in which this post is going, so I’ll just get to it.
This past weekend was a beautiful weather weekend, and I spent most of it like I always do: doors open and music blaring while cleaning and doing some of the smaller projects left to take care of around my house before my housewarming later this month. I was thoroughly enjoying my long weekend, and Sunday was no different. I spent the day doing what I’d been doing all weekend, but around 4pm, I decided to call it a day. I needed to take a shower to make it to church by 5:30, so I closed up shop and went upstairs to start the process only to be greeted by two wasps chilling together on the wall of my laundry room.
I immediately felt my heart rate spike. They were basically minding their own business, but I knew that wouldn’t last long. I froze in my spot and tried not to panic. It wouldn’t do me any good and would do nothing to fix the situation, so I racked my brain for anything I could use to kill them. I knew my flyswatter was downstairs, but I also knew I had some flying insect killer in spray form under my kitchen sink downstairs as well. At least I hoped that was where it landed after the move.
I hated to leave the wasps unattended but I had to chance it. I ran down to grab both the flyswatter and the spray and ran back upstairs. The wasps hadn’t moved, thank goodness. I knew that if I could keep them in my line of sight, they couldn’t catch me off guard later on. As I stood there trying to figure out if the spray would work (wasps weren’t mentioned on the list of bugs that it killed), I realized this was my one shot. If they fell off the wall uninjured, they would fall behind the dryer, and I wouldn’t be able to see them anymore. They could crawl back out and attack at any given moment. If the spray didn’t work, that would surely knock them off the wall or worse, send them flying, so I decided to try the flyswatter. Even though it wasn’t long enough to distance us the full 16 feet I like to keep between me and anything gross at all times, I figured it was my best bet.
My aim has never been particularly good, and this thought crossed my mind as I took aim with the flyswatter, but I didn’t let that stop me. I knew if I overthought any of this, I’d miss my chance and would have not one, but two wasps in my house until I found them again. Anyway, I lined up my shot and went for it.
And missed.
Of course, I missed! I could have screamed in frustration.
I thought for sure if I missed, they’d fly off into a crack (or worse, my bedroom) only to find me when I least expected it. But the wasps, in their newfound (or maybe it wasn’t so new) confidence in my poor aim, didn’t flinch. They didn’t even take a step away from where the swatter hit the wall. They were completely un-phased. So, I gave up on trying to hit them and went for the spray. It worked! They fell into a basket I had on a shelf, but I could tell they were struggling already by the buzzing sounds they were making. Thank goodness! As one wasp climbed out of the basket, I smacked him with the flyswatter again and he fell behind the dryer gravely injured. The other one had disappeared, but I wasn’t going to have that. I needed to see him die. Only then could I feel safe in my own home again. I tapped the basket with the swatter and he climbed out. I smacked him and he fell into the abyss with the other one.
Whew!
Happy to have it over with but still shaken, I walked into the bedroom and started getting ready. I went over to the sink and another wasp climbed out of my makeup bag!
WHAT THE HELL?! DID SOMEONE BUILD A NEST IN THIS PLACE?! AM I GOING TO HAVE TO BURN THIS MOTHER DOWN?!
I. Am. Not. HAVING IT!!
I ran to get the flyswatter from the laundry room and smacked this one good the first time. He went down. He tried to come back up swinging but I got him again, flushed him, and that was that. I closed my bedroom window, assuming (hoping, pleading) that they came in through there or while one of the doors was open downstairs and praying that there wasn’t a nest in a vent somewhere. After the last one went down the toilet, I spent the next 15 minutes swatting frantically at clothes, boxes, vents, etc. with the flyswatter to make sure there weren’t anymore monsters in hiding. It was a good thing I’d decided to leave extra time to just sit and stare at the wall for a few minutes after getting ready and before leaving for church (this house thing is exhausting), because that free time was now gone.
It’s been a few days, and I haven’t seen another one, but that was a wild ride, y’all. I really hope I don’t have to do it again. At least not anytime soon. And I’m still not sorry those wasps had to die for my cause. Good riddance.
#AdultingIsHard
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