Holy Buzz, Batman!

All right y’all, I know I’ve said it before, but I am a total disaster. Bless my husband’s heart for putting up with me. I am not a nag. I am not high maintenance. What I am is accident prone and a klutz.

Today’s adventure started at 1400 when Small and I got back from town (town being Cherokee--unless you live in the country, then town actually is Calumet. But I digress). Mommy thought it would be brilliant to leave the windows down on the car. Medium gets off the bus in a couple hours and it would be a sauna inside by then. I am a genius!

Fast forward to 1600. Mommy heads to the car to pick up Medium. I noticed a bee in my car. I thought it was just flying through. I waited for it to pass. Then I notice a second bee. Then I notice more.

The Hubbs had left an open can of Mountain Dew in the console.

One bee. Looks innocent enough.

Hot day. Open windows. Leftover soda. Most of the flowers in my yard are dead.

Yup, you guessed it. The bees had entered my car looking to suck up the sugary sweetness of The Hubbs’ Dew. They were swarming in and around the car jostling for prime positions on (and in) the can. My allergic life flashed before my eyes. I have already been stung three or four times in my life, and I read somewhere that bee allergies can develop after multiple stings.

What if this sting (or stings) was the one that made me allergic to bees? Would I have to carry an epi-pen? How much will The Hubbs tease me when he learns about this new allergy?

Yikes!

How the hell am I going to get the bees out of my car?

Taking into consideration the can was located right next to the driver’s seat, and that I know what it feels like to sit on a bee, there was no way I was driving my car. I opted to take the Dodge instead. [Insert Brittany Murphy saying, “We could really use the Dodge right about now...” (Just Married)]

It’s a damn good thing The Hubbs owns three trucks. (Yeah, you read right--THREE)

Once I made it to the park, I called the one person I knew would appreciate the danger--and hilarity--of my situation. I figured she would know what to do about the bees. Nope. She just laughed at me, and shared in my ineptitude.

The best conclusion we came up with was to wait them out. And wait I did. I don’t know if they drank all the Dew and flew home, or if it got cold enough to send them to bed. I just know that the bees are gone, the can is empty, and I will make sure all the trash The Hubbs leaves in the car gets cleared out before I leave my windows open again.

***No bees (or butts) were harmed in the writing of this blog post.