Every time I stepped outside my door; one would swoop down at me. After about the tenth time of ducking, running, and screaming, I realized they had built a nest right above my door. Nope. They had to go.
My husband, bless his heart, volunteered to go knock the nest down. He had the kind of courage I only dreamed about, but I did feel guilty. He’d be out there, all by himself. It was him against a whole gang of wasps. I decided to toughen up and go out there to be his moral support. That was it, though. I couldn’t offer anymore. I’d stand at a distance and encourage him. If he got stung, he was on his own. If they got after him, I couldn’t help him. The best I could do was encourage him to run.
That’s marriage for you.
I sucked it up and stepped outside onto the porch, FAR away from the nest. My husband set the ladder up and began climbing it to get to the nest. I thought I was going to throw up. But wouldn’t you know, the few wasps that did exit the nest flew completely over him and straight to me!
“If they come toward you don’t run. They won’t hurt you.” My husband called.
First of all, I thought there would be no lies in this marriage.
I planted my feet firmly and stood there as one made a circle around me. It dove at me once and shot back up before it touched me. I did okay, I had a full tank of courage in me today. The second time it dove at me, I decided I had things to live for and I jerked away. Huh, that tank was smaller than I thought. Oh, it was on then. It smelled fear. It dove at me a third time and I began running in circles, screaming, and swatting. It was right behind me the entire time.
My husband, who hadn’t even reached the nest yet, climbed back down and shooed it away. It flew off and left me to wallow in my shameful insecurities. Little prick.
“Just stand there,” my husband told me again, “They won’t mess with you if you don’t run.”
Yeah, okay. Couldn’t we just burn the house down? He climbed the ladder for a second time and was right at the nest when this little so-n-so came back. This time, it dove right for my face. Instinctively I drew back to get away from it. It was out for blood. Mine. It torpedoed towards my face again, I pulled back away from it, squealing. I heard my husband yelling at me to be still. We’re way past that now. My back was against the railing of the porch, every time it would swoop down at me, I’d lean a little farther back over the rail.
My husband was yelling at me now. Probably because it was a one story drop if I fell backwards off the porch. This thing just kept coming, buzzing in my face. All I could do was scream and lean farther back. When my husband reached me, it flew off again.
“Get inside the house,” my husband insisted, “I’m going to get stung trying to watch out for you.”
I bolted for the door and slammed it shut. Fine. Fine! You don’t want my help, you won’t get it. See if I offer you my moral support again. I watched as my husband climbed right up to the top of that ladder and in one swift motion, knocked the nest down. They began flying but not at him, just around. He climbed down, folded up his ladder and began walking towards the door. It was almost sickening how easy that was for him.
I’ll be honest, I thought about locking the door.