Worked from home today, waiting for an exterminator to come and deal with the bumblebees that had taken up residence in the flower bed, directly against the foundation of my house. I felt a little bad about it: bumblebees are so fuzzy and dopey and fat, you know, konking into the windows, a little confused. Plus all of the END IS NIGH hypothesizing about the decline in honeybee population. Still, this was preferable to me going out there in a moon suit and giant netted hat, ineffectually waving around a smoke pot from a healthy distance of 40 feet.
Kim says:
eeek. so I'm typing, and the bee whisperer is right outside the window, and he just sort of jumped and banged the wall. stung, maybe? scared the shit out of me.
Sis says:
yi
Kim says:
I can hear a low mumblebuzz, dunno if it's his radio or, you know, ENRAGED BEES.
Kim says:
forming the shape of an angry pointing finger in the sky.
Sis says: christ...ask him thru the window
Kim says:
well, now he's yakking on his radio, so he seems unperturbed.
Kim says:
$195, btw. Better him than me!
Sis says:
don't you like owning a home?
Kim says:
oh yes. so fun.
Sis says:
what's he going to do to eliminate them?
Kim says:
I believe for this kind, they poison the hole and then seal it up. Most of the bees should be out and about, doing their bee jobs...so if they come back and find no hole, they move along. I think.
Sis says:
ugh
Kim says:
I am totally RADAR EARS right now, and convinced I can hear them, buzzing and plotting their revenge.
Sis says:
are they shaped in a giant finger yet? Pointing at your house?
Kim says:
an exclamation point of outrage.
Sis says:
uh oh...now they're forming the "at" sign....followed by a number sign, and asterisk
Sis says:
they're really pissed
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