So I have decided that time is circular. Either that or there really is truth behind the saying "those who don't understand history are doomed to repeat it". I have come to this conclusion, because blog posts that I wrote over a year ago are now re-occurring. It's like a really long version of Groundhog Day.
Have any of you read my first ever post? It's about me and R being trapped in the hallway outside my room because a huge massive big ass wasp had decided that my room was actually their room. And 2 days ago...a ridiculously similar thing happened.
R and I both had work, but we arrived a few minutes early so were sat in the car mooching about. A wasp was nonchalantly buzzing about the windscreen. And then the trouble started, though I realise that I was a catalyst and yes, we probably both deserved it. But, for some reason, I thought it would be funny to turn on the windscreen wipers to annoy it. Haha. Yes. It was funny. I am 5. I get it. So this wasp buzzed about, understandably pissed.
But R? She had to be the person who takes it that one step too far.
The windscreen cleaners.
She turned them on and sprayed the already pissed off wasp with freezing cold soapy water...while the wipers were still going. This is when the terror started.
The wasp went mental. It was hurling itself against the windscreen, the windows, the sun roof. You could hear actual thuds. R thought this a good time to muse aloud if it would be able to fit through the air vents on the front and work its way into the car...she's a helpful lady.
But eventually it quietened. I didn't buy it. I know from various first hand experiences what bastards wasps can be. It was hiding. I was sure of it. I would put money on it. I convinced R to start the engine and just reverse back a little. Just to see if it really was gone.
I was right. As soon as we started to move, it buzzed it's vicious little arse back up to the windscreen and started headbutting it all over again. As R turned the car around in an effort to loose it, it fucking followed us. I've heard of weird things like seagulls holding grudges for years, and I certainly didn't want my own little daemon to be a bloody wasp.
Eventually we lost it. But I'm not going to lie, I still threw open my door and ran like it was every man for himself. Apparently, love means nothing when there's a chance I could get stung by a wasp.