A Heroic Tale (in which I am the heroine)

Yesterday was so beautiful. I decided to open my windows and turn off the air conditioner to let in a little fresh air. The boys went outside, so I left the back door open so that they could come and go freely (we have child-proof door handles so they can't open the doors on their own). Now, I don't know about other areas of the country, but in East Tennessee the Yellow Jackets are awful right now. They're everywhere. So, one flew in my open door and perched himself in my kitchen.

Like any responsible adult, I panicked. I shooshed my kids back outside (you know, where there aren't any bees) and put the baby upstairs. Then I came back down slowly and quietly as though there was a crouching tiger in my kitchen instead of a half-inch long insect. (Are bees insects? Another question for another day.) Think, think, think. What should I do? I grab the broom and try to urge him to fly back out the open door by waving the broom near him. He takes off flying, and I take off running like a mad woman, waving my broom as I go. Then I realize that I'm no longer following the bee and don't know if it's still inside or hiding somewhere in the house just waiting to catch me off guard and bite my head off. So, I again begin creeping around the downstairs. I spot him buzzing around my kitchen window looking for a crack to escape. WHY, OH WHY ARE BEES SO STUPID? Fly out the giant open door already! That window is not going to magically open up and let you out. FLY OUT THE DOOR. He doesn't. I swear about an hour elapses while I try to think of a new plan, all the while keeping an eye on the bee (who doesn't move from the window). I consider hitting him with the broom, but then I wonder if the short plastic bristles are sturdy enough to kill him. The last thing I want to do is make him mad. I was in the process of making sandwiches when he flew in, and I begin to hope that he'll fly into the open peanut butter jar so I can throw the lid on it and trap him. For a few minutes I consider calling my husband and asking him to come home from work to take care of this problem, but I think better of it. I also briefly consider putting the kids in the car and leaving the house, but I wouldn't want to leave the back door standing open, so I realize that he'll just be here waiting (in an unknown location) when I get back. I consider getting a shoe to smash him with, but that would mean getting awfully close to him and pretty good aim, so I scratch that idea. Obviously the only logical solution is to move. I know when I've been defeated, and Buzzy Buzzington has done it. In desperation I search our pantry for a tool to use when I see the can of bug spray leftover from the time spiders tried to take over our backyard. One shot of the stuff and the bee drops to the ground. I have conquered the beast and taken back my castle.

I'm amazed that I ran around like a mad woman for a good 45 minutes in a complete panic before I finally realized that I had the tools to solve my problem quite literally right in front of me. We do that a lot, don't we? We panic and awfulize and give up, only later to realize that a very logical (and sometimes painfully easy) solution was staring us in the face. We overlook the easy, just sure that only something truly challenging will do. Perhaps the next time I go into battle I'll inventory my ammunition before I panic. But probably not.