I welcome Fridays every week like a friend who I haven’t seen in years. If someone, someday tells me I have seven days left to live, I hope it feels as long as my week’s do now. I usually start my week wearing freshly done laundry, slightly rejuvenated from the weekend, looking almost human, and as the week wears on and beats the hell out of me, I end up in sweats and a hat by Friday, barely hanging on, struggling to make it through one last weekday.
This week felt particularly rough, although in reality it was probably just as bad as any other week. We had our first school activity of the year last night, and even though all I wanted to do was collapse onto a couch after another long and arduous week, Joey was reared up and ready to go for “Fall Fest.”
Aside from having to park along the road adjacent to the school, trying to maneuver through hundreds of people, and not really knowing where to go and what was available to do, it went well. The kids had a good time playing games and “winning” candy, but once the confusion and crowd madness began to peak, we bribed the kids to leave with the promise of Wendy’s Frosties.
After the kids were happily fed and finally put to bed, my husband and I decided maybe an adult beverage and a fire in the fireplace would be a nice relaxing way to wind down the week. As my husband began to light the fire, I settled in on the couch with my blanket and glass of wine. Once lit, he grabbed his beer and sat down next to me. I closed my eyes for a minute listening to the popping and crackling of the fire. After just a moment, I opened my eyes to examine the now excessive popping and crackling in the fireplace.
Pieces of something were falling down into the fire and would quickly ignite and burn up. A damn bird’s nest was probably up in the chimney. I checked before putting in the logs and saw nothing, but it was also rather dark. While some of the pieces of nest seemed to ignite and quickly disappear some seemed to be blowing around in the fireplace. Suddenly a flaming piece fell out of the screen onto the slate in front of the fire and began crawling around.
“Holy shit, Joe! What the hell is that?! Get it! Get it!” I yelled. My husband quickly picked up a ceramic coaster and squashed the flaming-whatever-it-was and began to examine it while I quickly fixed the small gap in the iron screen. “What the fuuu…” I trailed off as I saw twenty or so flying flaming whatevers in the fireplace.
I was correct in assuming there was a nest in the chimney, but I was wrong when I guessed what kind of nest it was…we now had a fireplace full of burning wasps. Some wasps were already dead while others, now on fire, were flying around trying to escape the flames. I used one of the fireplace tools to try to smack them off the screen and back into the fire. I didn’t even want to think about what the conversation with the insurance company would like if I told them dozens of flaming wasps ignited my living room. That seemed like a stretch, even for me.
Finally, once all the wasps appeared dead, we went to settle back onto the couch, but were interrupted by the boys who were now out of bed from all the commotion. I chugged my remaining 1/2 glass of wine, and knew I had it coming for even trying to sit down and relax…
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