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Fight or Flight
I’m living a mother’s dream this week. My children are off at summer camp; my husband off at work. That means I am not spending my day folding laundry and listening to the angry screeches of two children argue over whether the sky is blue and I’m not spending my nights avoiding “back rubs” and listening to my husband whine over how hard (snicker) done by he is.
It’s just me, my facking birds and my crippled dog.
And man am I bored. The novelty wore off somewhere around the 29th hour. I now find myself wandering around my empty house looking for something to do.
Oh look! There’s a dirty sock under the bed in the back corner! Sweet! That’ll kill a minute while I fish it out…
I’m so bored I even locked my sweet, surgically repaired dog into a small room with the birds. Just to hear the feathers flap.
That plan backfired horribly. I failed to take into account the fact my dog is stoned on pain meds from having his leg sliced open, cracked in half and bolted back together again. Abe and Lester flapped all around Nixon, even pecked at him a few times and my dopey dog just sat there with a stupid look on his face.
So much for drama.
So I’m doing what I promised myself I would never do. Yard work. It’s either that or start running through the fields stark naked hoping for some action. With my luck someone would shoot me. I figure it’s safer to keep my clothes on and pull some weeds.
So far I’ve blown a lawn tractor tire, lost a wratchet, cracked the pool pump (I’m in big trouble for that one), broke a lawn chair (with my healthy ass) and fucked up the whippersnipper so badly even God himself, couldn’t save it.
I ought to pat myself on the back for a job well done. I am so efficient.
(In my defense, the lawn tractor is an ancient piece of shit, begging to be replaced; my husband has over a hundred wratchets so the loss of one isn’t a huge deal; the pool pump…well…I have no freaking idea what happened…it wasn’t me, snicker; the lawn chair was ripped to begin with (I SWEAR!!!) and the whippersnipper? Well, if my husband had fixed it properly in the first place, I never would have had to fiddle with it. So it’s technically Boo’s fault.)
It was right about when the whippersnipper blew up that I had to reevaluate my plan for yard work. I could continue on my path of destruction thereby endangering myself and costing my husband an arm and a leg to replace everything I touched broke, or I could go and pull some weeds.
Weeding is cheaper so I toddled down to my garden shack shed to look for some gardening tools when I heard a loud buzzing sound. In the corner of my shed was a rather large hornet’s nest.
As I stood stalk still, I eyed this bomb and thought two thoughts to myself.
A.) Shit. Back up slowly, close the door and go get a beer. Don’t be a hero. What’s a few weeds anyways?
B.) I think I saw a full can of Raid! in my utility room. Who needs a man to kill a few bees?
Yes, I admit, I have rocks for brains. Thanks for pointing this out.
As I walked up to my house to get the can of poison, I was picturing all the accolades that would pour in when the world found out that I was mighty; I smote a few hornets without fear, without man.
With can in hand, delusions of grandeur and a crippled dog in tow, I returned to the scene of the battle field, ready for war. I carefully read the instuctions written on the side of the can, wiped the sweat from my brow (it was HOT, I wasn’t nervous…sheesh) and steeled myself for combat.
As I reached up on my tippy toes and pointed the can of poison at the hive, I thought, sheesh, how easy is this? Who needs a man? I am woman, hear me ROAR!
And roaring there was…as twenty or so hornets buzzed angrily around my head, very pissed that I was messing with their crib. My crippled dog sat there looking at me like I was the dumbest yokel on the planet.
I did what any good woman would do. I ran screaming out of the shed, dropped my can of Raid!, and hi-tailed it towards the house which suddenly seemed impossibly far away.
As I slammed my door shut, and shook my head to make sure no hornets lodged in my hair, I looked out the window to see if I had a trail of angry little insects ready to swarm my abode.
No.
What I did have was my crippled, limping, broken legged pup hobbling his way towards safety, probably muttering curses and placing a pox on my head for leaving him to face the danger alone.
Ya. That’s right. I abandoned my precious Nixon and fed him to a pack of wolves with wings, while I jumped ship and ran for safety. I am officially the worst doggy momma ever. As I scooped him up when he finally stumbled to the door, I noticed his nose was stung. Damn me.
I blame this on Boo. If he were around, I would have remembered to grab my baby as I fled for the hills.
I’m sure of it.
July 12th, 2007 at 9:42 am
Now that I have picked myself up off the floor, you should expect Nixon’s ass to be in your face again tomorrow morning.
July 12th, 2007 at 10:05 am
Oh, no. Maybe some less dangerous work inside?
Is there any painting to be done?
July 12th, 2007 at 10:13 am
next time you’re bored, it might be safer to just head to the mall.
July 12th, 2007 at 10:18 am
What the hell is a whippersnapper? I thought that was just what old men called kids?
July 12th, 2007 at 10:43 am
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BWAHAHAHA! WHOOOOOO!!!
Glad it wasn’t me.
Poor Nixon.
July 12th, 2007 at 11:13 am
Not whippersnapper — whippersnipper! I love that name for a string trimmer! So much cooler than weed-whacker!
Poor Nixon.
PS - Old-fashioned ether starting fluid from the auto parts store works much better than Raid on hornets, yellow jackets and other wasps’ nests. The stuff comes out in a stream, which is very cold, and flash-freezes the insects. They then drop to the floor (when they land with a thud, the sound can be a little disconcerting), go to sleep (it’s ether, remember?) and don’t wake up. Especially if you step on their frozen bodies. Crunchy.
Boo would be proud.
July 12th, 2007 at 11:27 am
Did you read the part on the can where the tell you to WAIT UNTIL NIGHTFALL?
LMAO …
I’m coming to rescue Nixon. Somebody has to step in.
July 12th, 2007 at 11:31 am
I hate bees. They always make nests in the tire swing and what do I do? Wait for Daddy. I won’t even attempt the “removal” of the nest after a few of my own botched attempts (involving ladders, ouch!).
Give Nixon a kiss. Poor baby.
July 12th, 2007 at 11:54 am
you found hornets, I found a family of rats living in my woodpile, I’m torn between being freaked outs ‘RATS!!!!!’ style or pearing out the window because the little baby ones sticking their heads out of the wood pile like ‘whack-a-mole’ are kinda cute….
July 12th, 2007 at 12:38 pm
I am reading Can’t Wait to Get to Heaven by Fannie Flagg and the main character dies at the beginning when she falls off of a ladder when she is stung by a bunch of bees.
So, I totally understand running for your life from hornets.
July 12th, 2007 at 3:39 pm
Eek! Freakin’ hornets. I have wasps living under my front steps. Stupid bastards make me afraid to even use the front door.
July 12th, 2007 at 4:37 pm
You are brave and ambitious. I likely would have been losing all track of time playing video games.
July 12th, 2007 at 5:15 pm
Poor Nixon!!
Ok I have but one question…. what the fuck is a whippersnipper?????????????
July 12th, 2007 at 6:26 pm
You have the funniest horrifying moments. And you have the best excuses….ah, defenses….for things that happen.
July 12th, 2007 at 7:31 pm
oh this made me laugh! And I’m coming off 1900 miles in a van with hubs and toddler.
Poor Nixon.
And dude, what the eff is a whippersnapper? I thought that was a youngster. Are you using a youngster for lawn work??
July 12th, 2007 at 9:52 pm
Ok I could loan my hubby for the wasp removal, he effectively took care of the damn wasps that took resident in our back step. We now have our very own wasp mortuary.
Running thru the field nekked LMAO! Living in the sticks just might have and advantage huh?
July 12th, 2007 at 10:00 pm
Ahh…the whippersnipper. My parents called the weed-wacker that all the time, and every time I said it people looked at me like I was crazy. Thank God someone else calls it that too!
July 13th, 2007 at 12:55 am
Um… Boo’s never letting you live it down.
Although he may give it up if he gets to see you runnin through the fields later, that could very well turn into a bargaining chip for ya. Next time, go shopping, better yet, go shopping online, you don’t even have to get dressed to do it.
July 13th, 2007 at 5:01 am
Whipper-snipper must be a Canadianism - like butter tart or Caesar (the drink, not the salad) because out here on the east coast we’ve always called those electric weed trimmers whipper-snippers. Or weed whackers.
Want to earn your redneck stripes? My dad used to wait until dark, spray lighter fluid all over the nest, and light a match. Stand back if you don’t want to lose your eyebrows (again) and just listen to the weird popcorn sound of hornets exploding.
July 13th, 2007 at 8:47 am
laughing.
making sad faces for poor Nixon.
and laughing about the whippersnipper comments, since now that i think about it whippersnipper really doesn’t make much sense as a description if you don’t know what’s being referred to. musta been a Canadian brand, back in the day…one my own mother clearly never owned, since i had to lecture her three times last weekend that what Dave was using was NOT called the “whippersnapper.”
July 13th, 2007 at 9:16 am
That’s fucked up. Guarantee Nixon eats your favorite pair of shoes. Or at least he should. At least you didn’t do what my mom did. She let me fall into a bumble bee nest when I was two. I had 50-60 bee stings. So tell Nixon I have his back if he needs it.
July 13th, 2007 at 4:29 pm
“And dude, what the eff is a whippersnapper? I thought that was a youngster. Are you using a youngster for lawn work??” -Mrs. Chicken
“It was right about when the whippersnipper blew up that I had to reevaluate my plan for yard work.” - Redneck Mommy
Hee Hee! Immediately got a hilarious visual of a poor kid working away and then blowing up.
Heeeeheeeheee! Thank goodness for humor to help make a ‘blue’day better.
July 13th, 2007 at 5:47 pm
Having been stung 46 times at once - hiking and stepped into a bee hive in an old tree trunk - I feel your fear. I would’ve never gone near them!! So points for the bravery.
Stay away from the yardwork - for your sanity and your bank account
I understand quiet - my son’s been gond for 2 weeks, another 7 to go and all my relatives left - I sleep with the TV on now. Sad, I know.
July 13th, 2007 at 8:19 pm
Surely there are more stories that could be blogged? Just to save you from these useless chores?
July 13th, 2007 at 8:57 pm
Good thing the kids were gone. What might their fate have been?
July 13th, 2007 at 9:20 pm
that’ll teach you to feel bored. now get your ass back on the couch where it belongs.
July 13th, 2007 at 10:11 pm
Quit wasting valuable blogging time by doing yard work! That’s what kids are for.
Poor Nixon! And it is ALWAYS Hubby’s fault. Mom’s do no wrong unless under the direct influence of the Hubby.
July 14th, 2007 at 5:43 am
My God, woman!!!! I admire your bravery! I will walk THROUGH my dirty house rather than walk by a hornets nest outside!
I think this is why “Yard Work” is TWO four letter words.
July 14th, 2007 at 9:58 am
Wait until after dark before you spray hornets or wasps with insecticide. I once was very brave and removed a wasps nest with the handle of a toilet brush in bright daylight. Lets just say the curses and wailing when they stung me on my fingers at the base of the cuticles, darkened the skies!
July 14th, 2007 at 10:03 am
And what, exactly, is wrong with running starkers through the woods? Not, you know, that I’ve ever done that. (*cough*)
And? Nixon? WonderBaby is sending him fellow-tyrant love…
July 15th, 2007 at 10:03 pm
Bored??? Are you crazy??? My friend and I were sitting on the deck at her parents’ WONDERFUL house in the Hamptons…huge deck, swimming pool, hot tub, tennis court, horses, swing set, a TV in each of the 7 bedrooms…not to mention the 15 items of technology without which three children cannot leave home. One of the children (hers…I swear MINE would never say this, perfect little beings that they are…yeah!) said, “I’m bored.” I felt like my head was going to explode.
I felt like saying, “What about Laura Ingalls…she got a doll made out of a corn stalk and played with it for years!” What about me, “I had to do an endless list of chores after school every day with things on it like dust, vacuum, make ice (yes children, there were days when refrigerators just refrigerated…they did not make ice!)” I personally have not been bored in the last 15 years.
I have a million and one things waiting for me to do them…when I have time. I have been bored with a book and tossed it aside for another. I have been bored with a conversation and either changed it or felt an immediate need to go to the bar for another drink. I have been bored with my marriage…but NEVER so much that I would resort to Yard Work!!!!