The Bees Knees

Not a day goes by in the Hardy household without a touch of insanity. Today we got a visit from the bee kingdom, after dad had "taken control of the situation." Lately we've had a bee problem (yellow jackets?!) and the solution was to perch in very precarious places while continuously spraying them with hornet/wasp killer. Unfortunately, today we learned the hard way (or I learned the hard way) that this was a failed method. According to Dave at Bee Be Gone, these products only contain about 1% of actual chemical. What a waste. Of course, I've been telling dad to hire an exterminator for about a week, after the first case of "bees in walls" occurred in his bedroom. He had been complaining about a chewing noise in the walls- he thought they were termites, and after I Googled termites and found that you can't actually HEAR them, we discovered the bees flying IN a hole they had made in the wall outside the window. Dad got mom to precariously lean out the window and spray them, and they "disappeared." Then I heard them in my walls, so the spray came out again. Unfortunately this time it didn't end the same.

Here's the story (the long version, of course): I ordered a dress from J.Crew that was on sale in a larger size than I am, so of course I bought it. I decided in a quick-witted moment that I was going to alter the dress myself with my new sewing machine (this is the present you ask for when you turn 22) so I laid out everything I needed on my bedroom floor and started working. I had just finished riding Sully, so I had quickly changed in to house shorts and a tshirt, with no undershirt.. if you get my drift... then I heard a "bzzzz"....."bzzzzzzzzzzzz"..... thinking it was a silly barn fly I had brought in with my funk (hey- horses, sweat, dirt- it's a great life) I ignored it until I heard TWO of them. Then, I remembered the bees. Oh the bees. I glance up at the ceiling fan, there's one. Glance over at the window, another. So of course I jump up, run out of my room screaming like a 10-year-old, and slam my door. Mom had to call the bee man. On the phone with dad, it was definitely an "I TOLD YOU SO" moment. And of course, waiting for the bee man I had to find an undershirt to avoid presenting my frightened ego as funky AND "skivvy-less."

Anyone need a roommate for a while?