The other day, about 9:30 am, the doorbell rang. Ches was at school, getting some work done, and we don’t know anybody, so I was a bit confused. And I was in my pajamas. Well, it was a neighbor who noticed something odd at the corner of our house, upstairs by the roof, and thought we ought to know.
It was a swarm of bees. Big bees. Lots and lots of bees.
So I called Ches at school and he called the management company. We had an exterminator at the house that afternoon. The sprayed a bunch of chemicals and said the bees weren’t getting in the attic (yay!) but it looks like they were getting in the wall. They used some of that expanding foam stuff to close the hole. Apparently there were actually two spot where the bees were congregating.
It’s been a few days, and most of the bees are gone. Hopefully the queen is dead, because that should take care of the rest of the hive, or so we’re told.
The scariest part to me is that there have been all these reports around the valley of some swarms of mean, vicious, attacking bees. People and animals are getting seriously hurt because they end up in the wrong area and these bees start attacking them and stinging like mad. I’m scared of that happening to us, so once I saw those bees I freaked just a little bit.
Things are fine, now, and mostly I’m just glad that we are renters. It’s times like this (and like yesterday when the handyman came to do some little repairs around the house) that it’s nice not to be a homeowner and have the financial responsibility of that kind of thing. When something goes wrong… we make a phone call and it’s taken care of. As much as I want to own my own home, I’m not looking forward to having to take care of all those little things that come up. Water heater breaks? I have to pay for it. Leak in the roof? I have to find someone to fix it and I’d have to pay for it. So yeah. Sometimes being a renter is the best thing in the world.