…except sweat bees. They are the douchebags of the bee community.
An entire bee community, plagued by little guy syndrome.
I’m trying to be productive on my Mostly Day Off. I finally finished mowing my lawn, since my previous attempt was rained out, and prior to that, it had been…ok, so maybe some of it was knee high.
It happens.
In Kentucky.
Where it rained for a week straight. And I work too much. And my whole Coming Off Antidepressants has lead to a lot of couch slothing.
But yeah, it happens.
Besides, Justin isn’t here to judge me, so I can do what I want!
I mean…until housing leaves a note on my door that my back yard is not zoned as a Natural Zone, and I need to get my crappy together and mow that jungle.
I should get a job with the housing office–I could really bring a new voice to their “friendly reminders.”
Ok, so I googled it. And they don’t mean to be assholes.
Sorry sweat bee. I didn’t mean to scare you into stinging me when I squatted down and accidentally trapped you between my thigh and calf. It was an honest mistake.
In their defense, I’m a very sweaty girl. I’d probably hang out on me too, if I was attracted to sweat.
I’m irresistible.
To bees.
I’m irresistible to sweat bees. Get back to pollinating. I won’t squish any of your friends.
