Killer Bees

Oookay, so I know the bees we come in contact with regularly are not going to kill me, but you'd think by my response to bees that I did indeed believe that. It's kind of pathetic. From a young age, I've been afraid of bees. I think it all boils down to the fact that they can hurt me. Those stings are painful! I've tried to convince myself that I have the advantage in this situation because of my size compared to the size of a bee, but I feel like they can still fly around me and sting me all sneaky like and I can't do a darn thing about it.

There have been two incidents this summer where a bee has gotten into our apartment. Of course, they always get it when Robbie is not home, so I have to choose to either attack the bee with a weapon (a broom is my number one choice), or stick it out until he gets home. The first encounter a few months ago ended with me hitting the bee probably 14 times with a broom (had to be sure it was long gone), but not before hiding on the stairs and waiting for it to land somewhere where I could attack it. Victory!

My hideout from the stairs, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun playing in the background :)

The second incident was yesterday. A bee flew across the room to the window in the late afternoon and my heart sunk. Really? Another one? I don't want to deal with this right now! So, I didn't. Robbie came home from work a few hours later and the first thing he did (bless his heart) was kill the bee. I asked if he wanted me to get the broom, but he literally just grabbed a paper towel, walked over to the window, and smooshed it.

Seriously?