It was in the front window between the glass and the blinds, which is about five feet from where Bug and I were sitting. I ran downstairs to get my trusty can of wasp spray (I always make sure I have a fresh can...) and then ran back upstairs and remembered, oh wait, there is an infant in the room, I probably shouldn't use this inside. So I left it on the carpet (so the dog could lick it?) and promptly got Bug fastened in her car seat faster than I ever have, EVER. We went to go pick up Matt from work, now (more than) a few minutes early, but just in time to see a kid get arrested in front of the building. When we got back home, Matt found the wasp in the kitchen, and then a little too humanely just opened the window and let him fly out. Pfft.
I can't decide if this was better or worse than on Monday when I was doing laundry and saw something sticking out of one of the little holes in the washing machine. It looked like a big fuzzy, or maybe a hair ball, and for some reason I decided to use a piece of clothing in the washer to pull it out. Thank God I did, since it was an extremely long and disgusting insect. GROSS. I proceeded to let out a yell and run upstairs, extremely shaken and heeby-jeeby. Matt had taken the day off of work (I will only slightly admit to a small meltdown Sunday night that might have led to this astute decision) so he went and handled it and I was able to continue with my laundry.
I can push an eight pound baby out of my cooter (sideways!) in what is arguably a very involved, painful and at times gruesome event, but I can't kill a goddamn bug.
Let's just look at baby feet instead
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