I need to tell you something about myself. This is a real thing. When I lived alone I kept a can of wasp spray by my bed. I really dislike wasps, but that wasn’t the thing. I don’t think we should have guns (yes, even you, sorry), and I think that if someone ever got close enough to me in the middle of the night to stab I might not do a very good job of protecting myself. BUT BUT BUT, I read somewhere in an article that taught women to fear the very earth they live on that wasp spray is an excellent protection device. It sprays for 20 feet and suffocates whatever it hits so….win win, right?
I never had to use it, that’s not what this story is about.
We’ve worked really hard on our porch this year and spend a lot of time out there, so I was super bummed when I saw some gnarly wasps making themselves a little home right next to the front door. The next above is on our little porch! We have rocking chairs now too. BUT BUT BUT then I remembered that I had wasp spray! From before I had a strapping man to protect me at night (right)! I asked Jay to spray the wasps but he was busy every time I asked him for a week (he wasn’t really busy), so I got all of my courage together in one little index finger and sprayed the ish out of that wasp nest.
It worked! Kind of like a massacre. There were lots of bodies. I was proud, so I shared my experience:
I don’t know, I just thought that was funny.