24 July, 2007
Three wasps. Three.
They were waiting for me when I went back to my room. Earlier I’d been sitting working in the front room when one flew in through the window and started buzzing angrily around the lamp. It took all of my courage to approach it, stick a glass over it and take it outside. I hate killing things. Detest it in fact. Almost as much as I detest wasps.
But there were three in my room. Which is half the size.
What was somehow more unnerving was that they weren’t flying around most of the time. They were crawling quite casually (if there is indeed a nonchalance to how wasps move) over my bookcase near the door. First I thought there was one, having heard it buzzing as I went to shut the window, and retrieved my recently commended wasp-catcher beaker and newspaper to snare it back outside. Then, as I crept closer to it with the glass upturned, I heard another flitting irritably around the inside of my lampshade. And I ran away. I think there was even a small degree of girly flapping as I ran. When I came back I could make out three.
And now they’re all dead, their axons well and truly poisoned with pyrethroidic toxins. I really do hate killing things.
The stupid thing is that I don’t want to go back to my room now - I can’t go back to bed. All I can imagine when I think of going back in there is the sight of those ferocious little Eumenides crawling insouciantly all over my Argos bedsheets. So I’m lying here on the front room sofa, aching all over with tiredness.
And all I can hear is buzzing.
In my head, I’m fairly certain. It’s just another symptom of my wasp-related paranoia. I’m being driven slowly insane by the ghosts of the insects I reluctantly Raided to death. In my dozy state I’m starting to hallucinate, and occasionally see little black and yellow blobs darting angrily about the corners of the room.
I’m also trying not to think I’ve killed off some sort of avatar of divine will, having only earlier this evening left a candle burning on a patron statue beside the open window, before going back to writing my novel - a story thick with symbolism regarding the Moirae/Fates. And then they came - Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos - the three ladies themselves. And how did I greet these ancient purveyors of human destiny? Why, I sprayed them in the face with neurotoxins of course, just like they used to back in the day at Delphi.
A scientist of course would tell me not to be so foolish, but I would retort that the scientist’s religion and associated beliefs are surely just as valid as mine. And then I’d probably point out the absurdity of quantum theory, and the scientist would no doubt have to shut up, or clumsily change the subject.
How many wasps make a swarm? Should I be worried about a nest? Isn’t it a little late for workers to be hatching if there is a nest? Where would the nest be, and why haven’t I noticed it before?
I really don’t want to go back in there and find out.
Hmmm… did you ever stop to consider that they were just wasps attracted by the smell of the candle? If you’re persistent you can persuade them out of an open window with a newspaper. I agree they are scary tho, especially if there is a nest. You are going to have to be brave and go back to your room to see if there are any more. If there are, then you can call in pest control and they will remove the nest for you. Stay calm :)
Comment by havingmycake — 24 July, 2007, 1:56 pm
Imagine spending the first week in your new flat in a new country, sleeplessly in the grip of an overwhelming fear of massive, apparently intelligent and highly-organized (gulp) super spiders.
I’m not proud of it but I became a cold-blooded killer, driven by abject terror.
Funny only in retrospect…
Comment by Ani — 24 July, 2007, 3:31 pm
I think your brutal wasp murder is entirely justified - I will definitely appear as your character witness when you are put on trial - though I also retain utter admiration of your bravery, since I am terrified of wasps, a fear that dates back to my nearly being blinded by one when I was three years old. This made me stand out terribly amongst all those ‘lads’ in the classroom when I was a child, as they would jump around excitedly trying to kill wasps, whilst I sat frozen in mortal terror.
All wasps must die. Horribly.
Comment by An Unreliable Witness — 24 July, 2007, 5:56 pm
HMC - I did indeed consider it, but it didn’t make for a very amusing entry. I’ve found life to be much more colourful if I approach it as an hysteric.
Ani - I’m rather fond of spiders. Apart from when they scuttle. Or have inexcusably large abdomens. Or make their merry way across my bed. Particularly when I’m in it at the time.
AUW - This incident is equatable to The Great Cupboard Moth Massacre of 2006 (http://www.benleto.com/blog…). My psychopathic tendencies are metered on a scale of theft, with rice-rendering-uneatable moths at the bottom and blood sucking mosquitoes at the top. Wasps by comparison are like ex boyfriends - poisonous would-be queens who sting at the slightest provocation and flap off to leave you with the pain.
Comment by Ben — 25 July, 2007, 11:57 pm
I love wasps.
Spite with wings; insectoid, dazzle-pattern Gunships.
Comment by overnighteditor — 26 July, 2007, 11:35 pm
have you ever been stung by a wasp? i’m just wondering because, i never have and so in a way because of that, its one of the things i’m most terrified of. i’ve built it up in my head as this torturous, excruciating, long-lasting pain, when maybe, in reality, it ain’t so bad. but three…. i think i would have had a minor stroke.
xx
Comment by isobel kelly — 3 August, 2007, 8:42 pm
Twice. The last time was a little nip as I was walking home about a year ago past Highgate Cemetery, but I was still enough of a drama queen to convince myself I’d gone into anaphylactic shock. A day later. Idiot.
The first time was about four years ago. I was standing at the bus stop by my mum’s and suddenly I felt like I’d been stabbed. I turned around expecting to see a West London rudeboy and instead found a wasp crawling on my back. I pulled off my t shirt and stamped on the little bitch. I still don’t quite know what the passengers of the bus thought as they looked out the window to see a semi naked man jumping up and down hysterically on his clothes.
I know what you mean though. Before I was stung I had the feeling I was saving it up for something big. It’s a little like vomiting on tequila or sleeping with someone who likes Celine Dion in the sense that it’s never as bad as the first time, but still not something you’re keen to repeat.
Comment by Ben — 3 August, 2007, 11:41 pm