Wasps have claimed my mailbox as their own
Wasps have been swarming around my mailbox for days now. They don't go inside the mailbox. They aren't eating anything on the mailbox. In fact, they don't even land on the damn thing. They buzz around it, occasionally hovering above the left side of the handle, before zipping back into the air space over my US Postmaster approved mail receptacle.
At first, there were a few wasps; maybe nine or ten. They were easy to ignore when I fetched the mail. But the swarm has grown. It is a small cloud of wasps that buzz me angrily whenever I get near.
Yesterday, I charged in with a can of Raid. I sprayed it on the box, in the box, and on any wasp nearby. The swarm abated for all of ten seconds before reforming and driving right at me like some insectoid Charge of the Light Brigade. Many wasps were lost in the charge, but when one landed on my finger, I screamed a nasty word, dropped the can of Raid and fled. I felt like Whinnie the goddamn Pooh, chased by bees in that old cartoon.
The fact that I covered the mailbox with deadly bug poison did not seem to faze the wasps a bit. They resumed their swarming. So I moved on to plan C. (Plan B, was to pour gasoline on the mailbox and light it, but that plan was vetoed by a certain someone who never lets me have any fun with gasoline and fire.) Plan C involves a Wasp & Yellow Jacket Trap. I bought one, poured the oogy-smelling wasp attractant into it, and hung the trap ten feet from my mailbox. I figured that was close enough for them to smell it, but far enough to move the swarm away from my Duluth Trading Company catalogs and credit card bills.
No dice. The trap was ignored like women's professional basketball.
I moved the trap five feet away. As of this writing the trap is still unoccupied. There are roughly a hundred wasps flying around my mailbox, however.
It may be time to give Plan B more serious consideration.
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Ass, gas or grass. Nobody rides for free.
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