Damn this house. It pulled me in with its promise of cheap rent ($300 a month!!), offered me relatively comfortable surroundings, and turned me weak-kneed with thoughts of only having to drive 5 minutes to work instead of 90. I love this house. But it really sucks. I mean really.
In reality I’m probably exaggerating a bit. It’s ok, I know I do that with some regularity. But there are about 30 dead honey bees in my bedroom. It’s like a bad horror movie, or Dakota Fanning’s hallucination in the Secret Life of Bees. For the life of me I could not figure out how the hell all these bees were gaining access to my bedroom. The windows were just caulked (or however the hell that word is spelled) so it couldn’t be that. But somehow, there were more honey bees in there every day. One day I walked in and there were about a half dozen of them, alive, crawling around on my windows. Not the outside, the inside, where they could easily come flying off the window at any time and sting me to death. Fortunately, they seemed to have no interest in me (or my cat) at all, and they died fairly quickly, so it really wasn’t an issue at first. But now it’s hard to walk around my room without stepping on a bee carcass. Can I vacuum them? Should I get a paper towel, pick them up and throw them in the garbage? I mean, hell, what do you do with a fucking bee carcass? I feel bad, because it has become clear to me that they were just looking for a warm place to hang for a while. They could have come into my kitchen, there was plenty of shit in there for them to eat.
Come to find out, they are coming in through a hole in the front of the house. My cousin is going to seal it. Mystery and problem solved.
But I’m holding my breath on this, because it seems that as soon as one issue is fixed in this house, something else goes wrong. I got a kitchen sink, but the drain doesn’t work. The cieling doesn’t leak anymore, but now there are bees in my room.