BZZZZ. My Montana Labor Day Weekend Almost Went Horribly Bad
I typically don't write much about my personal life, because it's frankly not very extraordinary. For the most part, I come to work, play great music on the radio, and share news and stories that I hope you find useful in some way. I then return home to my busy Laurel household that's full of loud kids and dogs and do normal, everyday stuff like everyone else. Take two weeks of vacation each year. Rinse, repeat.
Over Labor Day weekend, my relaxing, fairly mundane three-day holiday came this close to getting really exciting, real quickly. And not in a good way.
Meet my nemesis.
Everybody hates yellow jackets/hornets/wasps, whatever you want to call them. I complain about them every year at this time, for good reason. Late summer in Montana is when they seem to get much more aggressive. I feel like they know that they're dying soon, so they're angry.
Understandable, I suppose.
We haven't had a problem at my house until recently, and now it feels like they're everywhere. Sneaking into the house the second the door opens. Dive bombing my head for no reason. Freaking out my dogs and kids. I hate them. So much.
Handyman vs. the hornets.
Long story short... We bought a sink at the Restore last year for the kids' bathroom vanity. My wife was like, "are you ever going to put that sink in?" It had been sitting behind the shed for a year and it was a little grimy from being outside in the dirt. Thankfully! Because as I was washing it off with a garden hose in the yard, wasps started pouring from the little overflow hole in the sink! THE SINK WAS FULL OF THEM!
I haven't looked, but I'm sure my security footage is hilarious.
I was ducking and diving like a meth addict. I grabbed the only swatting device I could quickly find nearby, an empty bottle of bubbles that my kids so thoughtfully left in the yard. The long, plastic container quickly shattered as I swatted at the furious yellow jackets. I have no idea how I didn't get stung, but I'm relieved I didn't bring the sink into the house with the wasps inside the sink. Those little bastards would have loved to come out of their sweet hiding spot while I was lying on my back, wedged under the cabinet.