My cell phone rang to the beat of Japanese chimes as I sat at my desk at work checking email messages. I had just begun my work day when my teen son’s picture flashed onto my phone screen. I swiped across the screen.
“You’re up early,” I said.
“Yeah, I was in your room watching T.V. I heard a noise and looked up and saw a group of bees.”
“What do you mean bees?” I had hoped that I misunderstood what he said.
“You know, the insects that buzz around in the air.”
“What did you do? I asked.
“I ran out of your room and closed the door. I hope the bees stay trapped in there.”
I searched for an exterminator, found one, and scheduled a time for him to go to my house. My son asked me if I was coming home. “No, you can handle it,” I told him. What I was really thinking was, I’m not going home with those bees.
The exterminator arrived at 1:00pm as scheduled and took care of business. My son called me at 1:15pm and said the exterminator was done and the bill was $200.
I told my son, “Don’t let him leave. Invite him for coffee, we need to get to know him a little better for $200.”
My son let the exterminator leave. By the time I arrived home the only trace that the exterminator had been there were the dead bees in my window sill and on the floor. I chose to relocate to another room for the night rather than take a chance that there would be buzzing above my head.
What would you do if bees took over your living space?