July 22nd, 2005

Coffee Squirrel


Okay. This thing is interfering with my sleep again. The night before last, I sprayed the corners of the window above the tub with bug spray. Ten minutes later I went in to pee. I peeked in past the shower curtain and there were between twenty and fifty bees in there. Most were dead or dying. A couple were flying around.

"Holy --!"

I called Eric in to look at them. I sprayed some more. Eric swept them up and put them in a plastic bag just because I was astounded and wanted proof that I'm not crazy. There were a few more in the morning. I killed them before I climbed into the shower to get ready for work. Last night, there were almost fifty more bees. I washed some down the drain. I've flushed some down the toilet. I still have 20-50 in a baggie that Eric filled with them. I sprayed one over the bathtub and it flew erratically over the bathroom mirror and then plopped into an empty hole in my toothpaste holder. I mean -- they're *everywhere*! I called the management people again. There's supposed to be an exterminator who will stop by today at noon. Here's hoping. If this doesn't stop them, I'm gonna have to refuse half my upcoming rent for August. I pay them for a liveable space, not a bee-infested hovel.

Eric was joking. He says I'm a murderer.

"What did those bees do to you?"

"Nothing. Yet. This is my home, not theirs."

"You're killing them like the Nazis killed the Jews!"

"What a horrible analogy!"

"Is it because they have a different religion?"

We both laughed. I am the bee killer. They chose the wrong building. I wish I could stay in a hotel at the management's expense until they're all gone. I hope the exterminator does his job. I'm tired of inhaling bug spray. I know that I've kept ants away by surrounding a house with cinnamon. Spraying a mix of cinnamon and water and sprinkling raw cinnamon. I guess it's too spicy for ants. I wonder if bees hate it too? I could spritz the window area in the bathroom with cinnamon.

As far as I know, I'm the only one in the building with a bee issue. My madwoman in Dallas (you're in Dallas, too, aren't you lolotehe?) says that I have to figure out what the bees mean. She just wants me to move down there near her. She's funny. "The bees are telling you to get the hell out!" I don't know what the bees are trying to tell me. But they'll soon be silent! I just want them gone and want Eric better. Then I'll move. I'm feeling sniffly. My eyes are watery. I think I've inhaled too much bug spray...
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