Because my life rules, instead of having a nice relaxing Sunday at home watching the NBA playoffs, I got to spend it fighting the biggest swarm of bees I have ever seen in real life. I initially noticed the 25 foot by 25 foot swarm of bees overhead when pulling into the garage. "Perfect." I uttered to myself. I stood and looked at the swarm from a distance for a couple of minutes, hesitant and unsure of how I should act. So I came inside and took an eagle's eye view of the swarm from my bedroom window. That is when I noticed the huge glob of bees conveniently located about 1 foot away from my window and another 8 feet or so from where I sleep (that dark mass on the left side of the picture). "That's fantastic..." I uttered to myself. The buzzing was remarkable and bees were kamikazeing recklessly into my window. I couldn't allow them to build a hive there. I'd never be able to sleep knowing how hard 8,000 little worker bees were working just feet from where I do the bulk of my being really lazy. I have enough guilt about how much I sleep as it is. And, I wouldn't want to be the victim of some covert ninja bee attack some night when I wasn't expecting it. I had to act.

So, I planned. That basically means that I figured out how to spray the bees with the hose without getting killed by the deadly buzzing squadron. I cracked the garage door open a tad in preparation for my escape. Nervously, I manned the hose and hit the core of the bees with a fairly significant spray of water. They didn't budge. I fought the urge to flee and persisted with the spray. They were wet, but they were still there. They didn't seem to be pissed off about it. They didn't even come after me at all. For some reason I was a little disappointed and under whelmed by their reaction to my tactic, so I decided to make my Indiana Jones escape under the garage door anyway, needlessly scraping my finger on the ground. Bees:1 j.:0.

I came up with the second most predicable idea I'd had all day as I washed the blood off of my finger in the kitchen sink. I would spray them with ant and fly spray. I know, "why not bee spray!?!?" I didn't have any bee spray. I was fighting this battle on adrenalin and fear, not reason and forethought. It took me about 5 minutes to get up the courage to crack my window open the five inches I would need to spray them with a coating of the ant and fly spray. I did it, shaking the can violently and getting the can as close as my wussy brain would allow my hand to go towards the bees. I could feel them bouncing off my fingers. I have never felt more alive! I even managed to spray them without letting any bees in the house.

Initially, this tactic seemed to have failed as miserably as the first one did; they weren't acting upset about it at all. However, they slowly began falling off and down and onto the carport roof below. "It's working!" I felt like Napoleon must have felt after the battle of Austerlitz. The spray was dazing the bees more than it was killing them, but the bee ball was losing it's size. I was making ground! Encouraged with my progress, I gave them another spraying. More dropping bees. The battle had turned.

As I type, I am cautiously optimistic that I will win this war. The wind is whipping up and it looks as though most of the bees have moved on, save a dozen or so entrenched renegades who are undoubtedly planning my demise. I say "bring it on." I have my ant and fly spray at the ready near my bed. I also have really good hearing and am a light sleeper, so I should be able to escape an attack by running like a little sissy schoolgirl.