on bees

13 May

We are leaving the apartment after a leftover turkey lunch.  Taylor is headed to a PhD meeting to discuss Research and Development and Science and Engineering and other important things that make the world go round.  I am headed back to work to answer the phone for another four hours.

Me: “Well, I want to stop by Maurice’s first, just so I can wasp wasp WASP THERE’S A WASP WAAASP.”

Taylor: “What?  Where?”

Me: “It just crawled into my car door.  Like, the hinge part.”

Taylor: “Well, better get into the car quick then.”

Me: “What?  No!  If I open the car door it’ll get into the car.”

Taylor: “That’s not how the door works.”

Me: “Or it’ll fly out and sting me!  Eeeegh.”

Taylor leans on the car.  The loaner we have been using since my wreck in November has a broken lock on the passenger’s side, which means that the driver has to lean over in an undignified way to let their passenger in.  This means that Taylor is stuck until I nut up.  He sighs.

There is no sign of the wasp.  It is scurrying around in the bowels of the car now, which makes me nervous.  It’s like an evil little X-Wing in my Death Star.  It’s probably cutting my brakes.

I hold my breath and dart forward, flinging open the car door and jumping inside.  I land with a thump in the car seat and slam the door, losing a shoe and catching some hair in the process.  I carefully start extricating my hair from the door and peer out the window.  As soon as I open the car, the wasp will dart in and sting me and I will die.  Nothing will convince me otherwise.  Having finally pulled the last strand of hair free, I lean over and unlock Taylor’s door.  He gives me a look as he opens it (for far too long, it’s only another entry point for the sinister little bug crawling around unseen).

Me: “I lost my shoe.”

Taylor: “Uh.”

Me: “I can’t get it because the wasp is out there.  I don’t want to open the door.”

This last is a pointed comment to get Taylor to shut his own door, which he does.

Taylor: “I’ll get your shoe if you get those flyers off my seat.”

Happily, I oblige.  I scoop the flyers out of the way while Taylor walks around and plucks my shoe up off the ground.  He knocks on the window.  I gaze at him blankly.  If he thinks that I am going to roll down the window then he is clearly insane.  Before I can tell him to just bring the shoe around to his side he opens my door for me and tosses the shoe inside.


Shaking his head slightly, he walks back around the car and is suddenly confronted by the Hovering Menace.  The wasp zooms out of the car and gets in his face.  Taylor weaves left.  So does the wasp.  Taylor weaves right.  So does the wasp.  Finally, Taylor does a graceful sort of pirouette and the wasp, having lost interest, flits away.  I slip my shoe on as Taylor gets in.

Taylor: “Can we start the car?  It’s boiling in here.”

He is the bravest man I know.

1 Comment

Posted by on May 13, 2011 in Uncategorized


One response to “on bees

  1. ohsaycanyousay

    May 16, 2011 at 12:37 pm

    This is officially weird. I posted this blog post today. ON HORNETS.


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