Wasps. AGAIN.

Ordinarily I'm a girl who hates winter. I don't like the cold; I don't like playing in the snow; I don't even like sledding, which has most of my friends baffled. I just hate it. I hate things feeling all cold and wet and dead, and I hate not seeing the sun for weeks on end. But most of all I just hate being cold.

So naturally, once spring hits I go into this sun-induced state of euphoria. My friends accuse me of being part cat because all I want to do is find a nice patch of sun and sprawl in it. And for about a week of spring, that's all I do.

Until the wasps come out.

(If you haven't read my post Vespula Flavopilosa, now would be an excellent time.)

I'm apiphobic. I won't deny it. Teeth-gnashingly, hair-pullingly TERRIFIED of anything that stings. There are only two reactions if I see a wasp: either every joint in my body freezes up in petrified shock, or my limbs start inexplicably flailing and I cry like a baby. For serious. It's bad.

This is the reason I don't get a whole lot of sun and remain ivory-skinned despite my Hispanic heritage. The second I see a bee/wasp/hornet/spawnofSatan I run back inside. Because usually, inside is safe.

(key word: usually.)

Except when your dorm doesn't turn the air conditioning on and you live on the fourth floor where all the heat collects and you can't even breathe without propping open the window and the door and running five thousand fans. It's unbearable up there. But the window being open means that bugs can get in.

Yesterday I came back from the shower (wrapped in a towel and nothing else) and spotted a wasp chilling on the blinds. Cue freak-out. But hey, I needed to get dressed and ready and go to lunch, so I gritted my teeth and got ready as fast as humanly possible and ran out the door. That was around eleven-ish. Then I didn't go back to my room the WHOLE DAY, thinking Normal (the roomie) would kill it or it would fly out the window or be struck down by an act of God before I got back. And sure enough, when I walked back in at midnight, there was no sign of it. So I slept well.

This morning? It was back. Or maybe one of it's friends. Or maybe (eeeeeek!) it had really been there the whole time and could have crawled on my face or laid eggs (do wasps lay eggs?) in my food or called a whole bunch of its friends and held a poker tournament in my bed and I WOULDN'T EVEN HAVE KNOWN.

So I'm writing this from the library, which is thankfully wasp-free (I hope) and I WILL NOT GO BACK until Normal kills the damn thing or assures me the coast is clear. (Hey, at least she's not phobic too.)