Ridiculous

12:36 p.m.

We returned from the Kansas funeral trip Sunday night, and since then I've mostly been lying in bed, sick sick sick. I started having, um, digestion issues a week before the wedding, and it continued and continued. Due to stress. Nothing like driving across Nebraska and having to stop every thirty minutes to sit on a toilet, right? Right? But at some point in Kansas it seemed as if it got to where I couldn't take a bite/take even a sip of anything without running to a toilet within three minutes. Also, the dreaded sitting on the toilet while puking into a trash can has been happening a lot for several days now. And that? That is not good.

GROSS. I know, I'm so gross. But! It's my blog! I'll complain about my intestines if I want to!

Everyone has been telling me it's stress, don't worry it's just stress, you know, it must be all the stress! but the last few days with the fever and the barely being able to do ANYTHING and the stabbing, stabbing pain and the non-eating but bloating up like a balloon anyway, I made an appointment with my doctor, and I'm glad I did. Lo! After three minutes there I was diagnosed with some sort of gut infection (she said it was likely caused by salmonella or e. coli, which is horrifying on so many levels) that I probably got from one of the disgusting gas station restrooms or fast food joints we've visited in the last month, during one of our many treks across Nebraska. She said stress makes it worse, but I definitely have something, you know, in me, infecting me, and she prescribed some huge antibiotics and I hope to be able to get out of bed and actually DO stuff tomorrow.

Also: looking forward to eating without fear again.

I need to be on my game, because the moving truck will be here in exactly one week. One week! And I have done little-to-nothing since we returned except lay in bed/run to the bathroom/go to the grocery store one time to get crackers and popsicles.

On Monday during one of my brief and pathetic attempts to help J pack, I went out on the deck and pulled down my wind chimes. (I love wind chimes. They're so happy and chimey. I'd like to own about fifty million of them.) I also pulled down the birdhouse a friend gave us last year, peeked inside to see if any, you know, cute baby birds were in there, and instead was greeted by a swarm of angry and disturbed hornets who had made a COLOSSALLY huge nest inside.

Always possessing a cool mind in emergencies, I realized I was holding a live hornets' nest and shrieked something like "OH MY GAWWWD" and tossed the bird house off the deck, down to the yard below. Then I frantically started trying to get the dog inside, because they were there! Coming up to kill us! With their angry little stingers of doom! All afternoon angry hornets buzzed up to the deck and swatted violently against the glass doors. They were likely thirsting for revenge, and for my blood.

Monday night we did some online reading about them, and figured out why we've had almost no flies on the deck this summer--hornets eat MEAT. They eat meat, you guys. Meat. I also learned they can chew through garbage bags and that if a hornet is killed within two meters of the nest the pheromone released from the dead insect will make the entire nest go into attack mode, and they will all come and sting you, and you can die. So! Good thing I tossed that out fast, right? Right?

We weren't really sure what to do about the Hornet Nest Problem in the backyard, because J and I don't really like to use chemicals when it's not necessary. Especially with the pets hanging out down there all the time, and I don't know. Chemicals seem bad. Right? Putting poisons places poisons don't really need to go? That's no good. I vowed to think more about it when I wasn't so busy vomiting up Gatorade and ginger ale.

But J is a man of action. Last night, I desperately took some Dramamine to try to stop the vomiting urges, and of course passed out. I'm not sure when it was, but I woke up and J was towering over me, saying, "Okay. Okay. I got the bird house in three bags. What should I do with it?" I groggily stared at him, and stupidly said, "What?"

I guess after it got dark and chilly he went out there and put TAPE over the hole of the bird house, while the hornets were sleeping, and then put the house in three plastic sacks. Of course they were awake by then, and again, they can chew through plastic, so. Um. We had to act fast.

We put the bag in the freezer.

We have a hornets' nest with a lot of hornets in our freezer, right next to the popsicles.

Our elaborate plan is to wait until trash day (because I can not be convinced three days in the freezer will actually kill them, it will just make them sleep) (right?) and then put the whole mess into a Rubbermaid container (purchased today for this purpose while waiting for my prescriptions to be filled), duct tape the lid down FIRMLY, put it into another trash bag (or three, if I have any say in the matter) and put it out with the trash. I don't think they can chew through Rubbermaid. I hope not, anyway.

J wanted to go put them in a dumpster this morning but I wouldn't let him. I didn't think it could be good for our karma. You know, if they came back from the frozen dead as angry hornet zombies and chewed through the tape and the bags and then stung somebody. We'd be responsible.

I feel bad for the hornets. At least they were going to die at the end of summer when it gets cold, so it was a natural sort of death for them. Their residence on the deck has been pretty good, I'd say. All summer I've wondered, where are the flies? Why are we not bothered with flies? And already the flies are back. We were co-existing so peacefully, all happy and unaware, until I threw their home across the yard.

So that's what's been going on. Disgusting stomach/intestine infection, paired with thousands of hornets in our freezer. Also, moving in one week.

Love,
black sheeped