This Is Not A
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Date: 27/12/14
Winter's Sting?
It's December 27th (the clue is two lines above this one). It has been snowing off-and-on (mostly 'on') since mid-afternoon yesterday, with interpolations of sleet and hail. The outside temperatures have not been much above freezing for most of the past week.
So when, sitting here eating my lunch a few minutes ago, I heard a "BzzzZZ! BzzzZZZZzzz!", on looking up I was hardly expecting what I saw on the living-room windowsill.
A wasp. A large wasp. Possibly even a queen wasp.
As I have mentioned before (about halfway down this), I loathe wasps. So I hurriedly put my soup bowl down and scurried off into the kitchen to find my can of Raid. Thing is, I had done a substantial clearing and tidying job on the cupboards in there a few weeks ago, and on fishing out the can on that occasion, I had thought - not unreasonably - that I wouldn't be needing it for a few months, so I had put it behind everything else - the 3-in-1 oil, the furniture polish, the lighter fuel - so it took me a while to get hold of it.
Back into the living room with it and a couple of long, hard squirts at the beastie. Then, knowing full well how it would affect my psychological well-being for it still to be thrashing about in plain sight for the next two hours, I went and got some kitchen paper, wrapped up the proto-corpse and dumped it outside in the bin.
I suppose that that's my karma fucked again...
