Raymond and I have just had yet another splendid weekend of discovery in Queensborough and area, and as always I have stories to tell and pictures to share of new things we saw and did. But as often happens on a Monday when we drive home to Montreal and work, I’m tired after a long day and can’t do justice to all that wonderful stuff, so will do a quick post on the only rough spot of the weekend.
I was out at midday Saturday for a meeting with our friends and fellow Queensborough residents/enthusiasts Dave deLang and Elaine Kapusta to talk strategy and research for a Queensborough website. When I returned to the Manse in time for a planned errand-running excursion with Raymond, the look on his face as he greeted me was very serious and anxious, and the first words out of his mouth were, “I’ve got some bad news.” My heart leapt into my throat: Has someone been in a terrible accident? Has someone died?
Well, no: but the wasps were back.
Truly dedicated readers will know that we’ve been battling the wasps since they first made their appearance early last spring. We’ve had the exterior of the house sprayed twice. We’ve had to; Raymond is extremely allergic to wasp stings, and hospitals are uncomfortably far away from the Manse when it comes to emergencies. I’ve written about it here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here, and gracious but I’m getting tired of the subject (and the problem).
The most recent spraying was only three weeks ago, and we had high hopes that the issue had been laid to rest. Imagine, then, how Raymond must have felt when, while I was out at my website meeting Saturday, he walked into an upstairs bedroom only to find it full of very alive and buzzy wasps. You won’t be surprised to hear that he did not hang around that particular quadrant.
I think the story has a happy ending. We got the people who had sprayed before on the phone, they sent a very nice guy named Frank around first thing this morning, and Frank went into the room in question and gave those wasps what for (translation: some powerful spray that meant nobody should go back in there for four hours minimum). He also located the place where they were coming in and plugged it up. And as we were leaving to drive back to Montreal and work, he was commencing yet another spraying of the exterior.
Everybody knows this has been a bad summer for wasps, because of the heat and the drought. But really, this has been a tiresome thing for us. Tonight I looked up the definition of “waspish” in my Merriam-Webster, and it describes rather well how I’m feeling about the situation: “resembling a wasp in behaviour; snappish, petulant.”
When it comes to wasps at the Manse, that’s me: snappish and petulant. Go away, wasps!