Wasps.
I'm quite sure there's more wasps around here than up in The Big City. Perhaps it's due to our more southerly location. Last summer, My Darling Husband advised me that he sprays the inside of the garage every year with wasp spray to keep them from building nests in there.
Wasps everywhere.
Ok, not plague proportions, but I've spotted at least three inside our house this last week. I never see them fly in when we're going in or out the door. I don't know how they get in, but they belong with their buddies outdoors. They meet their Maker instead.
Tonight I suddenly heard one buzzing (that's always how we spot them inside...suddenly buzzing out of thin air, as if poof! wasp abra cadabra!) two feet behind me in the office where I sit, innocently minding my own blog business. I cried for help, and My Darling Husband came to the rescue with fly swatter in hand, just in time for that wasp to fly to the next room.
That room happens to be our storage room that happens to have a lot of stuff in it, so I'll probably be looking for something in there one day soon and happen upon that wasp and poof! it'll come screaming at me at top speed, stinger first. Or hopefully it'll have met it's Maker by then due to natural causes.
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