Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Honey comb? No, no, no!

Last week, Raging Red wrote about birds building a nest in the light fixture above her front porch. This morning, I noticed my own version of spring subleasing while fetching my newspaper. Bees have recently been hanging out in the space between my front door and screen door. I attribute their presence to the recent roof work that was done on my apartment building, but that's pure conjecture. They've been getting inside the screen through a hole I had to tear in it last summer. (The screen door slammed shut and locked while I was taking out garbage.) Fortunately, the bees don't fly into my apartment when I open the door. But I think that's because they've been occupied with something else.

They've been building a frickin' hive inside my screen door.

When I opened my door this morning, two bees were hard at work on something in the door frame. Given their closeness and level of activity, I thought I might've caught them in an intimate moment, so I tried to get my newspaper quickly. However, the delivery dude tossed my paper a few steps away from my door so I had to step outside. While stepping back into the doorway, I looked up again at the bees and saw what they were working on. It was about the size of a nickel, but I could see small hexagonal shapes within the little ball. (I wish I had a picture for you.)

So I did what any macho man would do: slammed the door shut, got mold remover from under the sink, and soaked those mother#&$%ers in bleach through the crack between the door and the frame (all while swallowing the impulse to shriek). I opened the door again, found the bees twitching on the ground, kicked them over the railing, grabbed the hive ball in a wad of paper towel, hurled it into the courtyard, and then sprayed the entire door frame with bleach. Oh, and I put a glass panel back over the screen.

I'm heading back to my apartment in a couple of hours, and expect a gang of bees to be waiting for me, smacking fists and baseball bats into their palms while glaring menacingly at me. But I'm ready for 'em; I have a baseball bat in the truck of my car. I ain't scared of those %@&#suckers. Well, maybe I'll stop at the drugstore before I get home and pick up some matches and lighter fluid.