Things that go buzz in the night

It was a dark and stormy night (seriously!). I had fallen asleep around 10:40 (or 9:40, depending on whether you remembered to "spring forward" this weekend), and I was cozied into my bed for the duration. 

I vaguely remember David coming to bed later, but I was in the REM sleep zone, trying to log 6–7 hours before my blasted alarm clock summoned me out of my blanket-and-pillow cocoon. 

It was long before the alarm sounded, however that someone—someTHING—literally had me jumping out of bed. All I know is that one minute I was in the middle of a highly entertaining Indiana-Jones-style adventure dream, and the next minute I felt a searing hot pinch in my right arm. It took me a second or two to disconnect from the action in my dream to realize that the throbbing was real. 

My eyes flew open and I whirled 180 degrees up and onto my knees looking wildly around the room for the origin of the pain. Who's idea of a cruel joke was this?! I thought for a second about blaming David (he likes a practical joke as much as the next guy), but he was breathing deeply for the moment. 

I realized then that I actually shouted "Ow!" or something along those lines, and David began to stir. I hissed to him that I think I was just stung, and then I panicked a bit, thinking that the winged predator was still on me (in my hair? on my shirt?). So I gathered up my nerve to turn on my bedside lamp, carefully avoiding the curved-out section of mattress where I'd just been laying. As the light filled the room, there it was: an angry, red wasp, sitting on my extra pillow, where my arm had innocently rested just a minute before. 

Too distracted with the stinging sensation radiating through my arm (the bugger had gotten me on my tricep), I asked David to get rid of the wasp. Poor hubby, his eyes weren't even functioning yet and here I was asking him to kill for me. But he unhappily obliged me, seeking out the fly swatter with no luck. We finally worked together, me bringing the wasp to him in the kitchen on my pillow (almost like Cinderella's lost slipper), and David swatting it to the ground where it met a swift end under the weight of David's work boot. Truly, it was satisfying to watch it go!

Wasp disposed of, we slunk back to the bedroom for a cursory search of the rest of our bedding. No wasp there, thank goodness, but that didn't stop either one of us from being squirmy and restless for a good hour. I kept waiting for another sting, and David I'm sure was just having trouble getting back to sleep after being hissed awake by a hysterical wife. 

This morning I was further dismayed. Not only does my arm feel "funny," but I had to dispose of a second wasp I saw crawling on our ironing board, journeying toward a freshly laundered stack of David's work clothes. Yikes! 

This reconfirms that we have an insect problem. Last fall, there was a day when I killed about 20 wasps that kept appearing on our bedroom window screens (and the ceiling). We have no idea where they're coming in, just that they keep coming! And now that I've been stung—in my sleep of all things!—you can bet that I'll be doing a thorough search tonight for entry points, and then a thorough search of the bed. 

The good news is that it seems to be only our bedroom that's affected. The thought of it being Noah's room under attack gives me the willies. When I was little (8, not 21 months), I had a terrible sting that required a prescription to relieve the pain &  swelling. Though that didn't happen to me this time, I wonder if Noah would suffer a similar allergy at an early age. I really don't want to find out!

Of course, today I'm dragging. Not only am I trying to catch up with losing an hour's sleep over the weekend, I'm also trying to shake off wasp escapade sleepies (and soreness!). I'm happy that the forecast is only 50 degrees today; that should deter those buzzing warriors from returning for at least one day (and, in turn, helping me get a good night's rest). Tomorrow with a high of 65? Now that's another story.