There were plans. Great, important plans. Plans to enjoy a somewhat normal weekend in our new house getting things done before the August rush was upon us.
But that all changed.
A list of all that we wanted to accomplish clutched in one hand my husband and I joked about simple folksy ideals the bright Saturday morning. Greeting a garage sale next door and a moving truck across the street all seemed well with the world.
I shut the front door and turned to walk towards the car, when terror swarmed out of the sky.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted malicious little black bodies zooming back and forth around our front door. Then, panic!
A wasp flew right into my hair and entangled itself.
Buzzing! Constant Buzzing right in my ear as it stung me over and over.
I flipped my head over like in shampoo commercials, but instead of flipping back up with a glass eyed stare I shook my head furiously trying to dislodge the bastard.
My husband began to yell at me to step forward away from the swarm. I just kept yelling that there was a fucking wasp in my hair.
BZZZZZzzzz! Sting! Bzzzzzzz! Sting! Sting! BZZZZZzzzzzzzz!
Finally, I shook my head enough that the pure evil monster broke free and flew off (probably to lay its eggs in some poor living insect so its young could devour it from the inside. Wasps are truly the evilest being on the planet). We ran for the car, me clutching my ear while my husband pointed to our front door.
Overnight the little cretins had created a huge nest right over the door.I couldn't take the pain or the fear, I ran through the garage up to the bathroom to assess the damage and cover it over in salves and unguents.
If you were to say start up a lathe, get a bit distracted and put the edge of your ear lobe and part of your neck onto it you'd have a pretty good idea of just what damage the wasp did. Or if you were dragged behind a car with only your ear's edge touching the cement. Something kinda like that.
There was no way I was going to be up to heading out into the real world to accomplish a damn thing that day (I felt more like putting a bag over my head and going back to bed). I curled up on the couch with a bag of ice, some really crappy Saturday TV (I haven't seen TV in so long I forgot just how banal it can really get) plotting revenge.
Revenge and wasp killer is a dish best served cold (so you can make sure to kill ALL the little buggers) so I waited til the suns last rays were cresting over the horizon. Sneaking out through the garage, my husband went a few steps up and released a thick spray of chemicals at those soulless Saturday destroyers.
I took over after he was done and got all the last little bits out of the can because damn it I wanted to make sure they were as dead as dead could be. And spraying toxins at what caused you horrible pain is a wonderful balm for the soul.
This was just some of the carnage.
In total we found about 10 of the little shits that set up camp over our heads waiting for the opportunity to strike. Only they hadn't counted on one thing, a pissed off woman with a giant can of Raid.
So how was your weekend? Have to kill any evil insects that waited to fly into your hair and attack?