:: Shudder ::

A sure-fire way to get me stressed is to let a wasp in my apartment. Watch me scramble to find a magazine, shooing Adam out of the way (I mean, to safety). With the screen door open, I wait for it to go back outside on its own (meanwhile, my gas tank on the grill is shooting out gas and I preferred to have the door closed during that time). Seeing that the wasp is not headed outside, I run into the kitchen, away from the beast. I thought it was chasing me! And it's hot. After that, make me have to read the directions to the Raid spray to make sure I can use it inside. Check. I manage to hit the wasp after it landed on a [sturdy] decorative item on the top shelf. However, Waspie fell behind my TV. Now what? I couldn't just leave it there, hoping it was dead. I had to know. Enter: flashlight and yardstick (thanks, Adam). But how do you adeptly handle a flashlight, yardstick and a can of Raid? One has to go (the Raid, but it was nearby).

I crouched down to look under the TV stand, and the wasp was just sitting there. I nudge it with the yardstick, and it started to fly and bounce around. Where did it go? Hidden wasps are worse than visible wasps, in my opinion. I bravely lean over the TV to get a glimpse of the wasp. It was in firing range. Did I really want to risk getting Raid on the furniture? I had no choice. I aimed and fired, and with great relief, the wasp lay still. Then, with one fell swoop, I crushed it with the yardstick. It was over. I finished the job by putting the wasp in the garbage disposal (with tongs, of course) and gave a satisfying flip to the "on" switch.

In reality, I'm not brave. I'm just overly afraid of bees.