Thursday, July 29, 2010

Again With the Bug Death?

A wasp nest is being constructed on our front door. Well, technically the door frame. But in either case, we have to walk under it and stand there to lock or unlock the door. This makes us worried that a wasp will get in the house and sting someone, the "someone" for whom we are concerned varying depending on whether you are talking to me (one of us) or RR (Wally).

It made for a moment of disbelief on my part when we had that conversation, and it became clear that her worries were more for our cat than either of us. I guess I see her point. If a wasp came inside, I'd avoid it, but Wally would go after it and probably find a way to either get stung or just make it really mad and then be totally ineffective at killing it. But I'm not crazy about the idea of having to avoid whichever room the wasp decides to go in until I think it might have died of natural causes. And there's no way I'd be able to get to sleep at night.

Anyway, point is, we're pretty sure we need to Take Care Of the wasps before the situation gets out of hand. For about a week now, every morning as we're about to leave for the day (with RR checking out the window to make sure no wasps are right by the door, then us dashing out, me gently shutting the door and locking it while RR keeps a lookout for trouble), we say, "ok, for real, tonight, we have to spray the wasp nest. For real." But every night we manage to not make time for it. Because spraying wasp nests makes us feel like murderers. Because that's what we are. Wasp killers.

Meanwhile, the nest gets bigger everyday.

In other news, my friend at work is leaving at the end of next month. Sad! Who will be my sushi buddy now? Mmm, avocado rolls. Is there anything better than rice and avocado put together? And also, I will miss her lots. *sniff*

In other other news, we're currently on an experimental homemade marshmallow kick. It's fun, though fattening. And it's cool. It's SCIENCE! (said in best Bill Nye voice)

And I guess I'll end on this little gem. I have finally figured out the one thing that could cure me of my Nutella addiction: throwing it up. Why didn't I think of that before? Yummy.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Kill or Be Killed, I Guess

I definitely am starting to think that we live in The House of Death. Last night, I killed a bug in my room. Normally, I try to trap bugs and put them outside, but I kind of freaked out because (a) I had never seen anything that looked like it before and (b) this one was heading for under my bed, where I feared that by the time I returned with some trapping device, it would have vanished, and I would never see it again, or more accurately, I *would* see it again, but not until it jumped on me in the middle of the night and tried to kill me. So I squashed it. It punished me by leaving behind what looked like blood stains on my carpet.

I had thought that maybe my killing Mystery Bug was balanced out by the fact that just a few minutes before, I had seen a tiny beetle-type bug scurrying across the kitchen floor, and I decided to just let it be. I mean, it seemed either scared for its life or very purposeful, either way clearly in a hurry to be somewhere else, so it seemed like the right thing to do let it go. And I found out later that RR had seen the same bug and had also opted to let him alone (at least, I hope it was the same bug). But then after I killed Mystery Bug (which, by the way, was difficult to kill, and I felt like a terrible person repeatedly clobbering it with a shoe, WHOMP [lift shoe] “still not dead” WHOMP [lift] “still not dead?” WHOMP [lift] *sob* “still not dead”—at least I didn’t have to use a hammer), I went back down to the kitchen only to discover that a spider had found Mr. Beetle, and unlike me, spider dude was not willing to live and let live with the beetle. RR and I were horrified. We acknowledge that spiders have to live, but it still made us feel like, at a minimum, bad hostesses. “Feel free to live in the kitchen, don’t mind the murderer over by the pressure cooker.”