Hum de dum de dum! What a beautiful day to read a book by the window in my favorite chair!
BUZZZZZZZ. Buzz. Buzz-buzz-buzzzzzz.
Please don't let that be a wasp! My husband isn't home and I'm gonna have to leave the house until it dies. Please, God, Puh-leeze!!! Make it disappear! FOR THE CHILDREN...
Ever have an experience like this? All alone in your home with the dreaded, stinging bomber-of-doom? No knight in shining armor to save you by beheading the circling bastards?
Makes me shudder thinking of how one could repeatedly maim my body; leaving me swollen, in pain and quivering in a pool of sweat. Can you tell I've never been stung by a wasp? I'm overly protective and I've been enforcing my no-stinging policy for over 40 years. I'm not changing things up now.
FACT: When honey bees sting, their stinger falls off rendering them defenseless and unable to sting again.
FACT: A wasp does not lose it's stinger after it stings a person, which allows it to chase you frantically around your kitchen dodging and weaving to save your life and your family.
FACT: I am freakishly scared of wasps. Screaming like a little girl and hiding from the winged beast have been my weapon since before I got married and lived alone. Also, if your husband travels often, you find yourself having to defend your spawn from the dangers of the wasp.
Due to this intense fear, I have practiced various methods over the years to get rid of wasps in my house. From toxic wasp sprays, to fly swatters, to leaving the doors open and praying they get the hint - I finally have the best fix for our home.
FANTASTICK!! No, that isn't a spelling error. I'm talking about the household cleaner.
Or my kitchen cleaner/Grimm Reaper of choice... Formula 409, Baby!!
It all started 15 years ago, when a wasp flew into my downstair bathroom. At first I slammed the door and resolved to use the bathroom at the gas station for the next few days; but then I sucked it up and without any bug spray, I got creative.
Throwing around household cleaners from under my kitchen sink (obviously before I had children), I was in search of something with the longest and strongest shooting distance of cleaner. I tried out many different ones from the door of the kitchen, aiming for the sink. I needed to go into battle with a fail-proof long distance strategy and death spray.
When I first tried the 409, I had it on the "Spray" setting. It traveled further than other cleaners, but it didn't look like it would douse it enough to wet the wings. Plus, I didn't have enough shooting control. I then switched that mothah over to "Stream," and I knew I had a winner.
After practicing to steady my hand, for I had never shot a gun before, I was ready and trained for combat.
With blinged out glasses, a Santa hat and a heavy winter parka, I peeked through the bathroom door. Good. The wasp was still in there. All I needed to do was to remain patient for that beast to land.
It landed on the upper right quadrant of the back wall. I slid my arm holding the bottle through the cracked door, making sure to keep the rest of my body safe in the hallway.
Fire! Over and over I shot that wasp with my power blasting stream of general household cleaner and disinfectant. And, my hypothesis was correct! If I got the wasp wet enough it would fall to the ground, unable to take flight. But what I didn't realize was that the bug could be wiped out from the chemicals or the fumes.
It was D-E-A-D!! Ding, dong the bitch is dead!
Flash forward 15 years...
Whilst sitting in my compfy chair and relaxing into a new book, I recognized the sound of my arch enemy. There was a wasp in the room and the dummy was trying to exit the building via my picture window.
You are sooo dead!
Like a fox, I quietly and nimbly found my spare bottle of 409, changed the nozzle setting and crept up carefully as not to scare it.
Ready, set, Terminator-mode mentality, fire! I was so confident in my skills, I performed this execution without protective gear and in flip-flops. Mama's a total badass!
Within 2 seconds the wasp was down on the window sash, wobbling around like a drunk at last call.
"Mr. Wasp. This is YOUR last call!" I bellowed in my quiet house, disturbing the sleeping cat.
Thirty-four seconds later, I no longer had to worry about this wasp. I had made it another day without being stung.
Hasta la vista, Baby! You're all cleaned up!