It started one normal day with a wasp in the living room.  We always get a dozen or so each year…spread out over several months.  You know, one here, one there.  But this day, there was a second wasp.  Two days later, there were two more.  That day I sprayed poison in the house, on the walls, and outside.  I had to wash all the blankets because of the poison.  I also had to deal with a 9 year old yelling, “There’s a nest in my bathroom!” over and over.  There was, obviously, no nest in the bathroom.

      So today, when a wasp went banging against the ceiling, I refused to use the poison again.   I look up what to do, and see window cleaner and hair spray.  I grab my hair spray and a shoe and go on the hunt.  I’m being quite brave, if I do say so myself, and creep up to the flying wasp to spray it.  “Pfssssst!” Drat!  Not close enough..closer…closer…”Phsss…”  “Yeow!”  There was one on the floor.  I had stepped on it.  I’m assuming it was poisoned some because it wasn’t as bad as I remember them being.  I drop my weapons and limp outside.  I call Arlis and tell him to come spit on my foot.  His wad of tobacco immediately stopped the pain. 

      While I’m sitting there leeching poison, he goes around the side of the house and sprays poison, which blows in his eyes.  So then I have to guide a blinded blind man, while limping, to the faucet to flush his eyes.  He’s fine now. 

        I rinse the tobacco off my foot and go inside.  Dad comes and decides to vacuum the wasps.  “See them going round and round?  That kills them.”  Does he actually believe this?  We argue over it until he concedes to let me put the vacuum outside with the “dead” wasps so that all the live ones can crawl out.  I had to vacuum the house, so I emptied it, showing Arlis all the “dead” wasps that are now dusty white in color crawl away on the dirt.  I take it in, do some house work, and leave the vacuum in my father’s room with the door shut.  I knew it was empty of critters, did he?

        We were supposed to pick up a rooster today.  I was supposed to do a lot of things.  But we wound up killing nine wasps that day, all in my living room.  For over a day we would go in and look around before sitting down.  Everyone would use the white couch because you could easily spot a dark bug on a white couch.  We found them all over the place, under things, behind things.  They’ve calmed down for now.  I hope we’re through with them.