It started last year when Isobel was just two sweet weeks old. My sister, who was living with us at the time, noted that our 25lb cat Zorro was acting strangely, even for him, and she went into the kitchen to take a closer look.
SHE FOUND A BEE. IN MY HOUSE.
A BEE! IN MY HOUSE!
Zorro had stunned the poor thing and between the two of us and a shoe we managed to kill it.
Now, I like bees. In fact, I’d say I’m fond of bees and am keenly aware of their necessary role in our food supply. I’m worried about the loss of native pollinators in the Valley.
But I had a newborn baby in the house and I wasn’t taking any chances. How the bee got in my kitchen was a mystery. We don’t have window screens so we never open the windows for fear the cats would get out. The only thing that seemed to fit was the air vent in the ceiling. At the time we had a pest control service, so I immediately got on the phone and requested someone come over POST HASTE to fix our bee situation.
I explained that we had a newborn. I didn’t have to explain that I was on the edge.
As much as I loathe the idea of spraying poison around our yard we have something of a black widow problem. Our house sat vacant for a year before we moved in an black widows established so many colonies we had (a mourning? a murder? a poisoning?) a SHITLOAD of black widows. I’d find them daily, sometimes twice a day, whenever I went outside. We temporarily decided it was worth it to get pest control.
Our Very Nice Pest Man arrived and searched for an entrance. He sprayed and double-sprayed. He said that most likely the bees were getting in from the attic. He could spray there but we’d have to load up the baby and cats and be gone awhile. I was not happy with the idea of bug-bombing the place with a newborn, so we decided to wait.
After that first incident, our Bee Incidences died down.
Occasionally throughout that summer we’d noticed Zorro flipping out and we’d realize we had another bee in the kitchen. Zorro would either kill it for us or damage it and we’d finish it off with the fly swatter. I’d like to say right here, right now that our cat Zorro is THE BEST DOG EVER AND I LOVE HIM.
Once the weather started cooling down in October our Bee Incidences stopped altogether. Winter saved our home from insect invasion better than The Very Nice Pest Man could.
Winter passed, and summer rolled around again. But this time it was different.
WE FOUND WASPS.
IN MY MOTHERFUCKING HOUSE!
As horrible as the bees were, this was a million times worse.
Even the name makes me shudder.
Have you ever been stung by a Yellow Jacket?
Those bastards don’t die with the sting the way THOSE POOR SWEET BEES DO. Those bastards ARE SADISTS WHO ENJOY YOUR TERROR AND PAIN. They sting you OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
Nobody is ever stung just once by a wasp. They are stung multiple times before the wasp flies off, FREE AND CLEAR, LIKE A HIT-AND-RUN DRIVER.
Wasps are terrorists.
Wasps are bullies.
And they were in our house.
We finally were able to determine (after much angst and hand-wringing, and multiple wasp-blows with a shoe) that they were indeed coming in through a vent. Perhaps they were coming in through our dilapidated roof, or perhaps they were coming in through our attic.
Either way, they were using the vent.
At this point we could no longer afford the services of The Very Nice Pest Man but I convinced Anthony that something needed to be done.
I was tired of these MOTHER FUCKING WASPS IN THE MOTHER FUCKING HOUSE.
He said, you’re right. Let’s go to the store.
At our local Hardware Supply Store we talked to a very understanding and sympathetic girl who was probably half my age.
What could she possibly know about wasps? I thought. She’s still learning the ways of the world!
She told us where we could not only get Yellow Jacket traps for the attic but also filters to physically block the vents that would still let air through.
I said, Thank you. We’ll take seven.
Installing these pads has helped because at this point we were averaging about four wasps per week, which in my opinion is ten too many.