I did not sleep well last night, and so I sat here for a while this morning unable to gather my thoughts.
Listening to the sound of Mark’s typing.
So fucking irritating.
As though he is slamming his fingers down into the keys from a great height. Repeatedly. Frenetically. Determinedly.
What the fuck is he typing, all motivated over there?
All busy and annoying.
Fuck him.
So I went upstairs and took a nap on the couch. The smaller stupid dog came leaping over, all joyful to snuggle in and suck my warmth from me. He settled his small angular furriness into the curves of my body and nestled his head over my right wrist.
And we slept
When I awoke a bit later, all blurry-headed and cranky? My right hand was gone.
Not gone, obviously . . . but so deprived of blood by the weight of the dog’s head against my wrist that I could no longer sense its presence.
Stupid fucking dog.
So I shifted his body, and shook out my hand.
Returning life to your dead hand by forcing the blood down into the flattened empty circulatory vessels?
That . . . fucking . . . hurts.
And then there was that horrible buzzing, vibrating, aching sensation. A million pinpricks of not quite pain. As though my hand was filled with bees.
Once? I arrived home with the girls to find that an enormous swarm of honeybees had taken up residence on the steps outside our house. Started building a hive on the steps and down onto the walkway that led to our front door. They were friendly bees, so it was no big deal . . . but they obviously couldn’t stay there.
The papers had been filled with stories of how honeybees were dying off. How they were in short supply. How much the local farmers needed them.
So I made some calls, and finally got someone on the phone who said she could come out and take the bees away . . . for $200.00.
“Are you kidding me? $200.00? These are honeybees. Aren’t they all valuable? Haven’t I read how the honeybee population is dying off?”
“Yes, what’s your point?”
“Well, I’m just thinking that if they are all valuable, I’m not going to pay you to take them off of my property. You’re just going to turn around and sell them to someone who wants them.”
“Yes, but you don’t want them. And you don’t have the ability to sell them to anyone. So it will cost you $200.00 to have me come out there and take them away.”
“Huh. Well, thank you for your time, then. I’m sorry this didn’t work out.”
“Wait! What are you going to do now?”
“What do you mean, what am I going to do now? I am going to hang up with you and go spray an entire can of Raid onto the honeybees that are blocking access to my front door.”
“You can’t do that! Honeybees are vital to our local agriculture! You may not kill them!”
“They cannot live in front of my house. So you take them away or I am wiping them out.”
“Fine. You don’t want to pay $200.00. I get that. How much will you pay?”
“I will pay zero dollars.”
“OK, well now you are being ridiculous.”
“OK, I’ll pay $5.00 . . . that’s what I paid for this can of Raid, and if you come out here and get the bees? I won’t have to use it. So I will pay $5.00.”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“Nope. I thought you would be thrilled to hear about the honeybees. Seriously, I thought you would come right out and get them. I would prefer the honeybees live, but their lives are not worth $200.00 to me. Not even.”
She sighs, “Is this a large gathering of honeybees?”
“Yes. They are spread out over the walkway and steps in an enormous seething mass. Perhaps the size of a small bathmat.”
“And you are confident these are honeybees?”
“Yes.”
“How about I charge you $100.00?”
“How about not?”
Heavy sighs on the other end of the phone, “Alright. I’ll be there at 4:00.”
And at 4:00 that afternoon?
She drove up with a small holed box that contained a Queen Bee. Put it down in the midst of the bee mass. And then almost immediately, the bees began to climb into the box to be with the Queen.
Maj and Kallan and I watched from just a few feet away.
Listened to the buzzing whispered bee discussions. The buzzing grew louder and the air was filled with the soft caresses of a million bee conversations.
A velvety vibrating liquid sound.
That’s what is in my hand at the moment . . . the last vestiges of that velvety vibrating liquid sound.
Stupid dog.
Stupid honeybees.
Stupid woman.
$200.00?
Not even.
But I happily wrote out the check.
$5.00.
Plus also?
In case you were wondering? This happened before Maj’s horrific encounter with the Yellow Jackets.
Duh.
Otherwise this would have been a story of bees and then screaming and then Raid.
The end.
Oh I love this phrase: “A velvety vibrating liquid sound”
Thanks, you!
That is way cool! I had no idea you could get rid of bees that way.
It was very cool.
We just stood there chatting for about 15 minutes about how it would have been well worth the $200.00 she had wanted to charge me.
And then she picked up the box and drove away.
$5.00 seemed about right.
your segues flow like honey
and not at all like segways
I once dated a guy who was a bee whisperer
he used to do this crazy dance when he wanted some lovin’
Segways have a tendency to send you flying off a cliff with little or no warning.
Apparently.
I do try to be smoother than that.
And the image of your guy doing the bee dance?
He is naked in my imagination as he does this dance.
Is that correct?
Snort!
yes visions of naked gyrations now dance in your head…
if you are a queen bee
this shit is supposed to impress you
rather than make you laugh until you almost pee yourself…
apparently I am not royalty
I knew it!
That dance would not be worth mentioning unless he was naked!
Yay!
And if I ever saw that dance?
I would also giggle until there was danger of peeing.
Hee hee!
You are the shit in the shit sandwich. I might have said that before, but I am not caring. I bet miss queen bee carrying lady thought so, too.
PS- I am so not the asshole that would EVER point these things out, but I got reamed one time for not doing so…I am having a vague recollection of who it was that did the reaming…so…
::in a hush hush sort of tone:: Pssst! Kris! typo allert. around 4 o’ clock. love you. don’t hit me.
I am all awesome when I do not have $200.00 to spend on bees.
Snort!
And I fixed the typo.
My head is as fuzzy as my hand.
Thanks, you!
We also have a small, stupid dog. I call her Loaf. Because she is a big, ungraceful loaf. And she also likes to snuggle with us. Often, horizontally between Hub & me. And as soon as I wake up & realize I’m teetering on the edge of certain doom, I shove her ass over so she is vertical.
When my limbs are dead, however? That is always my dumbass fault for laying on something wrong. And I usually don’t figure out that I’m incapable of controlling said limb until I’ve picked it up and allowed it to drop onto my face. I’m pretty dumb when I first wake up.
Our small stupid dog is generally a frenzied ball of furry satanic energy.
Unless he is chilly and feeling nappish.
And then he is all kinds of snuggly.
I am not dumb when I first wake up.
What I am?
Is pissed off.
Usually.
Nice. Dumb takes precedence if I wake up and *do not* have to get up yet. If I do have to get up? Pissed does take precedence. I hate mornings.
Agreed.
As I have mentioned before?
My favorite part of mornings is the “not quite facing it” part.
Love that.
Getting up to face the day?
Annoying.
First, I cannot stand to listen to my husband on the computer. It’s not the keyboard, it’s the mouse. He cannot and/or will not keep the damn mouse on the desk top. Instead of just sliding it around, he picks it up and moves it up and down, back and forth. And all I hear is repetitive click of of the stupid mouse hitting the desk top. It induces craziness in me.
And seriously? If I ever need help of the manipulative/negotiation sort, I’m calling you!!
Mark’s typing and computer use does not bother me at all unless my own head is useless and slow and empty.
And then his every keyboard tap mocks me.
Which pisses me off.
And I am not generally so confrontational in negotiating.
But I did have the Raid.
Snort!
Not so secretly, since I’m confessing it here? I love the buzzing, not quite painful pinpricks of waking a sleeping limb. It’s a tangy kind of pain.
Hrm.
And “A velvety vibrating liquid sound?”
I would lick that, if it weren’t made of bees.
Really?
Ack . . . I hate that feeling.
But licking words?
Love that.
Very much.
Just the graphic visual of a crazed Mark all wild eyed pounding on keyboard keys was enough for me.
What WAS he working on???
I have no fucking clue.
He doesn’t bother me unless I am feeling all lethargic.
And then?
Oh yes.
I am bothered.
you rule at the haggling.
so my old place of employment had a big bee swarm on a column outside. I have a photo. it was cool. anyway, so I don’t know how much they charged, but a dude came with a cool bee vacuum and vacuumed up the bees into a big bee box. they had made a honeycomb so then the dude ate some of that. which was gross. I mean, it probably tasted good. but it grossed me out.
A bee vacuum?
That would be awesome to see!
And honeycomb is way yummy.
Swoon.
Do you have the photo to share?
I would love to see that!
I can’t do bees.
Can’t.
Phobic. Totally phobic.
Ok, I can ALMOST do bees. At least, if a bee gets in the house I do not cry.
If a yellow jacket or a wasp gets into the house, I cry. I cry and I get the vacuum cleaner and I wail and I get nauseated, but if no one fucking loves me enough to have the decency to BE HOME when I need to get rid of the yellow jacket or the wasp I will deal with it (with a vacuum cleaner) but then I will very likely throw up.
Oh my god.
I have had horrific encounters with yellow jackets in my house.
But I have been blogging about icky creatures too much lately.
I will make a note.
Someday.
All I have to say is if I have had the luxury of having a nap, no matter what, I wake up seven kinds of pissed off and this anger can only be assauged with sugar. Preferably of the chocolate variety.
I had no chocolate.
I drank coffee.
That helped a little bit.
Sigh.
visiting britt in co. wtf is that? a swarm of bees. looking lovely and pendulous. we called a beekeeper and he was quite excited and put on a bee gathering i probably would have paid 200 bucks to witness. He was like thanks i’ll bring you some honey-he never did he just robbed our bees [great book-a little drawn out]. Those bee keepers are a-holes.
I swear to god.
If I didn’t know we were related?
I would know we were related.
You sound so much like my mom and sister.
That’s awesome.
$200.00? Are they kidding? For Bees?! They should be paying you!
Exactly my thoughts.
Exactly.
You. You are who I aspire to be and I am coming very close to it. :) I love how you took no bullshit and straight up showed that lady what was what. I love that. Lately I have been like that and my life (inside and out) has been alot better. No more being walked over and taken advantage of. You go Kris! :)
Oh my god!
That is all fucking awesome!
I am a role model.
Be careful of the crazier less functional parts of my role modeling.
You may want to pick and choose the bits that work for you.
Hee hee!
I doubt that there is a shortage of bees cause those mofo’s were swarming in our neighborhood a few weeks ago and took up residence in our shed…like facken squatters. Every time you walked outside, they came buzzing around you, and in an attempt to swat them away you looked like a drunk white dude dancing at a wedding. Sounds like a party but it really wasn’t.
Stupid bees.
Are you sure you had honeybees?
What you’re describing sounds more like Yellow Jackets.
And those waspy guys?
Have no redeeming features whatsoever.
In my humble opinion.