Saturday, May 26, 2007

I Bet You Missed the Entries About Nature, Right??

Many things are going on, and many things went on, and it got hard to figure out what to write about and what not to write about and how to write about stuff, without it sounding all journally and ridiculous. So I stopped writing, and kept trying to figure out how to write about it all, and finally I just decided I am not going to write about any of it and just stick to complaining about Nature again.

No, really.

So a Brief Update On My Life, before I get to Citycat v. Nature: 2007.

1. Wedding planning going well, hall is booked, date is set, dress is bought, men are all wearing kilts, the usual.

2. I am now living in Houston, working for my first of two law firms, and I absolutely love everything about it except the overwhelming and crushing terror that comes with not having a guaranteed permanent job. And of course missing the Joker and Wonderful Kate and E and Peanut and even the Devil Cat. I haven't been bitten in weeks.

But enough about all of that stuff, because I don't like to talk about it and it's my job, damn it. Onto:

Citycat v. Nature: 2007

Fucking nature.

About this time last year, the Peanut and I had our Grand Adventure in Yardwork involving: A. Giant Spiders, B. Wasps, C. Demon Vines, and D. Poison Sumac. Later I was attacked by hail and then there was the incident with the roach in the shower and I am STILL trying to reanimate my soul from that experience. But then winter happened, and the glorious thing about winter in DC is that when it is cold, there is nominally less nature to attack me.

Y'all? It's summer.

This weekend my firm took us all out to the country where we stayed in adorable little cabin type houses and went tubing and Texas country dancing and spent inordinate amounts of time hanging out on the front porch. The girl I was rooming with and I (I'm calling her the Editor) stayed in a room called "The Back Porch" on the back side of the big house we all hung out in. To get to our room we walked in back of the house up a little ramp. The room was awesome, the porch was awesome, the beer was awesome.

The Nature? Not. Awesome.

We arrived early Friday evening and everyone congregated on the porch. As we sat there, we became aware of unwelcome guests: bees. I do not like bees, and that isn't even irrational because they sting. Anyway, the conversation tended to go something like this:

Me: "AAAHH! Bee!" (flails arms wildly, hides head in shoulder of guy next to me.)

Every Guy, Ever, Because They Are All Just Too Macho For Words: "If you leave them alone, they will not bother you."

Me: "That is a lie, because they are bothering me right now, just by existing in my presence with the potential to sting."

Two or three guys: "Ok fine, we'll kill it." (Stomp around ineffectively, because they have had several beverages of the adult genre and bees are quick like bunnies as they fly around.)

Other guys: (nervously, because they aren't quite as macho as they thought they were): "Um, don't make it mad!"

Anyway, this went on for awhile, and eventually we all went to dinner and dancing and then hung out and had additional beverages until bees were no longer merely hard to stomp, they were hard to see, and also they probably all went to bed because really, we were up far past any other rational beings.

So the next morning the Editor and I are walking to our room, when OW. There was PAIN, of the STINGING VARIETY, on the back of my leg. And I didn't even SEE the fucking bee, so I was totally leaving it alone and it TOTALLY HURT ME. And y'all, it sucked. And then we were walking back to the porch and the Editor got stung, and now we were both pretty irritated and we chose to aim that irritation at the Smug Macho Guys who promised us that leaving them alone was the key.


Guys: "You clearly pissed it off."

Me: "Did not! Also stung Editor."

Guys: "She pissed it off too."

Clearly we got nowhere with that line of conversation, but the next move was to go to the river where thankfully the only nature were some really cool turtles.

Anyway, once we got back I investigated and discovered not bees, but a wasps nest in the railing on our ramp. And that shut everyone up, because no one, even the Machoist Guy, claims that wasps won't attack if you leave them alone. Wasps are evil, sting-y creatures who need to die.

Which they did, after the NOT AT ALL HELPFUL girl at the front desk provided the Editor and I with a can of spray and told us to just, "Go ahead and spray them, you can stand like, 15 0r 20 feet away and they'll just fall down." Ahem. Given the fact that my last method of killing wasps involved a hose, Target bag, and Mexican Hat Dance, I was not convinced by the spray can.

But the good thing about the Macho Guys that are summering with me is that they also feel kind of bad when they lie and tell you you won't be stung and then a wasp stings you, and WaspKiller gallantly took the can of spray and eradicated the problem.

So my leg is all swollen and hot and itchy, but at least I know that the one that stung me is dead with his family.

I'm back, y'all.