Because I'm still battling whatever Pollen Fiend is causing my sinuses to be so revolting, I'm totally phoning it in and re-posting something I wrote when not even FoN was reading my blog. But it's pertinent, because guess what I saw crawling their icky selves all over my deck this afternoon? Time to call the exterminators...
I try to be a tree hugger, I really do. I grow a garden that is never that successful because I can't bring myself to thin out my plants; I think they should all get equal growing opportunities. I admire vegetarians (but I can't be one - if we weren't meant to eat cows, they shouldn't be so tasty). I try to buy organic, stay away from chemicals, recycle, reuse, live simply. I think everybody is equal and all creatures should be treated with respect.
Except for wasps.
Bees? See, bees I can respect. Bees are useful. Bees have honour. They don't sting you unless you totally deserve it, and when they do they at least have the common decency to promptly die afterwards. Even spiders, which are creepy and wrong and omigod nothing should have that many legs, have a purpose (eating the mosquitos, which in turn spread the West Nile many hypochondriacs so desperately need now that Chronic Fatigue is out of fashion).
Wasps are like the head cheerleaders of the insect world. Sure, they look pretty cool (look at one up close - most sensibly, one that is dead - and you'll see what I mean. Whoever designed wasps should be working for Porsche) but they're vindictive little bitches and they get more aggressive as the season draws to a close. And they always know to target whoever can do them the most damage.
It's pretty hard to believe in a cosmic balance when there is something that mean out there that can fly and inject venom repeatedly. Not only that, but it has friends. How fair is that?