"Bees, Jim! Bees!"
In the middle of a conversation with my friend, Doubles, a few days ago a big, big bee flew into my apartment (I'm guessing) through the crack between where the air conditioner unit stops and the window moulding begins. (Yes, I have the foamy stuff you stick in between the cracks to stop it up. It is sitting coiled in its bag next to the window, leaning up against the unit. I figure that's the same thing as using it.) It was loud and active and the size of my thumb.Thanks to a lifetime of being on the lookout for bees around my mom, who is *extremely* allergic, my immediate reaction to a large bee inside my small apartment was to go to high alert. "Get the fuck out of here! What the fuck do you think you're doing?! Go! GET OUT!" (Bit o' trivia for you: when we had a mouse in the Cambridge apartment, I had the same reaction. Not scared shrieking, but angry yelling.) So the bee flew back to the window, but couldn't find the hole he climbed through in the first place. I'm hearing buzzing behind the dropped blinds and I pull the curtains in front of the blinds, too, so it can't fly into the room. Eventually the buzzing stops (though I swear I was hearing ghost buzzing for the next hour) and I assume the bee has found its way back into the wilds of Dupont.
Not so. Just now I see a big, fuzzy bee hobbling across my floor in front of the tv. (Insert obvious joke here about the only reason Halley saw it was because it was blocking her view of the tv.) Since it seems to only be able to walk (I'm sure it was starving after living on my windowsill for a few days), I trap it under a bag with structured sides while I go to open a window to let it out of. For twenty minutes I'm going back and forth between my windows and can't move the screens on any of them. After failing on the first round, I go back to try again. Nothings moving. I look back at the bag with the unhappy bee inside. Fine, Bee. I'll put on clothes and we'll go outside. So inside an Ann Taylor Loft bag covered with mail from my investment portfolio people (it was the only envelop big enough to cover the bag), the bee gets carried out the front door of my building.
I flip the bag over on the grass by the flowers (give it access to what it wants, right?) and it won't let go of the tissue paper. So I start talking to it. "You're free. Let go. Bee, this isn't smart." And as people walk by, smiling at the crazy lady, I manage to shake the bee off of the paper.
Stupid bee.
posted by Halley @ 11:33 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home