I Really Didn't Think It'd Bee a Problem - Part 2

As an aside, Kristin and I haven't had any appointments this week, so there's not much to update you on ... I'll post a 16/17 week picture of Kristin so you can see how big her belly is getting
(I think that's the only time I'll be able to get away with that sentence.... ever).
So, back to the bees...
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I watch the sun start to dip behind the Hamilton escarpment as I make my way to the local Home Depot. It's still warm and my car has no air conditioning. Kind of like my house, I think to myself. I consider my options as I listen to music pumping through my iPod to the car stereo. There is a fair amount of traffic in the late afternoon, so I have plenty of time to plan my attack.

After making a few short stops at various stores, I arrive at the depot. It's surprisingly not busy during this time of day, and I make my way through the store. It doesn't take long to find what I'm looking for. Expanding foam, of some sort.

My plan is to spray the foam into the hole, effectively blocking the bees highway home. Their nest must be inside the hollow of the brick (more like brick/blocks), so the foam should plug the hole and keep them from coming in.

I grin as I make my way to the next aisle. This type of foam isn't really waterproof, so I decide I should use some type of caulking to seal it.

I happen upon a Home Depot employee wearing a dirty orange apron. Not his first day on the job, looks to be in his 40's, I think to myself, assessing his possible work and life experience. I guess that this guy is knowledgeable enough to point me in the right direction here.

We chat for a few minutes. He doesn't seem overly concerned about my nemesis, and not really entertained either. Oh well.

I ask him what he'd do in my situation. He comes up with the same idea. I feel encouraged; a novice homeowner like myself coming up with such an ingenious plan. He recommends a caulk that should do the trick. I can tell this is his "go-to" recommendation - he really likes this one.

I make my purchase and head back out into the setting sun. By the time I'm home and ready to go, I decide it's too dark to see what I'm doing. I consider my options.

I could quickly get my newly purchased supplies ready to go, and hastily fill the hole. They say evening is a good time to catch wasps because they're in the nest. I could trap them all, I say with a grin. No, too impulsive.

My other option is to wait until daylight. I'm excited - eager to attack my new house guests, but I decide that proceeding at night could be perilous. I reason that the bees will be quite upset - what with me cutting off their only access to the sweet sweet food they gather each day.

Wasps are aggressive, aren't they? I make a silent promise to do a little online research another time. For now, I decide that it'd be far better to be able to see my opponent. I'm not really a fan of being stung numerous times by wasps.

As I stand in the backyard, weighing my options, I envision myself tripping over something, as I run from the angry-ninja-wasps like a maniac. Looks like it'll be a morning mission.

I wake up in the morning, eager to start my mission. It's only 10am, but it already feels like 30 degrees outside. I sip a cup of coffee, pondering the outcome of the mission. I could be stung a million times, my anxiety tells me. No, I reason back, I can run pretty fast if I need to.

I pick up my weapon of choice. I carefully twist the plastic tube onto the can, and it's ready to go. I toy with the trigger - testing to make sure it's going to work when I get to the battleground. The foam rises to the top of the tube immediately. I'm ready to go.

I plan to spray the foam into the hole; in a matter of minutes the foam will expand more than twice it's size, totally filling the entrance the wasps have created in my brick. It'll harden quickly, and their fate will be sealed.

I'm jittery from the coffee; maybe it's the anticipation and adrenaline, or both. I carefully eye my escape route. I need to be prepared for a counter-attack.

I ease my way past the rose of sharon, sweat already pouring down my face. I see them. At least 5 or 6 wasps hovering close to the hole. I see one climb out and fly away. My eye twinkles as I anticipate the execution of my plan. So long bees.

I edge closer to the hole, carefully maneuvering past the floating bees. Time slows. I nervously slide the plastic tube into the hole and quickly press the trigger.

*snap!* I've broken the trigger. Looks like I overdid it. I feel a rush of panic and consider making my exit. No, I tell myself, I need to finish this. I notice a smaller trigger on the other side - I quickly test it. Bees are flying around. There's more now, are they angry? I wonder.

The trigger works. I go back to filling the hole, and in seconds I see the yellow foam expanding and pushing out of the brick. It's done.

I stand back from my work and inspect the foam. It's starting to set - maybe the heat of the day is speeding up the process. The bees frantically scour the brick, looking for their entrance, to no avail.


I smile at my handiwork. Victory is mine! I walk through a small cloud of bees, my sense of accomplishment numbing my fear of multiple darts from wasps.

I start the barbeque. Time to start slow cooking some ribs for lunch. My stomach growls just thinking about it. My sister Kat and her boyfriend are coming.

This is a good start to the day, I muse. Food is on the grill, sun's shining, and I just annihilated a whole lotta bees.

If only I had known...