“Wasps, what kind are they sir? Angry buzzing ones and they are in my ceiling rapidly eating a path to me!”
Yes, that’s how my call to the home of the owner of the local exterminating company began last night. Since then we have duct taped the buzzing zone into hermetically sealed mix of 4 rolls of duct tape, yet they still manage to get in – one by drunken one.
What began as a quiet home evening went off the rails shortly after I sprayed “that wasp nest killing 25′ stream of death stuff” into the little ridges of our siding where a couple of wasps were flying in and out of. That went well for me, at least for the time, but upon re-entering our home the fierce angry mob of stinging homesteaders made their presence known. Sheer panic set in, the kind one must feel when being under attack, you know, when bombs, rockets, bullets and helicopters fill your ears – all on a search and destroy mission zeroed in on you and your family at home.
Earlier in the day, I enjoyed a nice ride in the country with my daughter, to photograph fields, flowers and old buildings. Now I breathe relief that Chet, the exterminator silenced the horde, and that my family can safely sleep the night away.
That’s life, tomorrow I ride.