A Bug's Life

A couple of days after we moved, a wasp appeared in our bathroom. 

Wait, let me back up.

A wasp appeared in our bathroom one morning when Bill was getting ready. He was leaving early to get to the train station (to go back up to our old house, rent another U-Haul, and cram all of our remaining stuff into it for another drive down to the new place) and so departed while I was still asleep. 

I got up an hour later and proceeded to get into the shower. While I was obliviously shampooing my hair, something caught me eye. Yes, it was the wasp. Why was it still alive, after it has been spotted earlier in the morning by my very manly husband?

Let's not ask questions like that.

I'm not a huge fan of wasps, and this one seemed particularly deranged. It kept swooping into the shower with me, almost buzzing my head. But not in a vicious way -- more like it was disoriented by the steam. I kept a cautious eye on it while I finished my shower (resulting in no small amount of shampoo getting directly onto my eyeball) but by the time I got out and located the flyswatter (kindly placed on the bathroom shelf by my husband) it had settled at the top of the wall far beyond my reach.

Curse these high ceilings!

I had no idea where the step-stool was and I wasn't going to stand around waiting for the wasp to meander down, so I closed the bathroom door and went about my business.

Later that day it was gone. Where to? I have no idea. The vent on the ceiling would be my guess.

Two days of peace and calm came and went.

Then one morning at the crack of 4:30am the wasp appeared again in the bathroom, while I was taking a shower. (I was up super early to catch a train.) It once again settled at the top of the wall and so once I toweled off I tip-toed back into the bedroom to wake Bill up and see if he could help me kill it.

He declined.

Did I mention Bill's morbid fear and loathing of bees and wasps?

When I patiently explained that I still needed to dry my hair, apply my make-up, and do other bathroom things, he not-so-gently told me to deal with it and promptly went back to sleep. I pulled my stuff out of the bathroom, closed the door, and finished getting ready in the guest bathroom. I made it to the train where I promptly fell asleep.

Fun fact! I always sleep on trains.

When I woke up a hundred miles later, Bill had texted me. This following exchange ensued:


So we have -- at least temporarily -- solved the wasp problem.

I hear that old houses with leaky attics are prone to all kind of bug infestations and that it is likely we will have additional "guests" coming in through the vents. We're going to need a better plan of attack. I'm open to suggestions.