Flying Solo

Us Cop Wives share one thing across the board: we are often flying solo. Our honeys are stuck at work, left on a job, babysitting a crime scene, held up with a victim, or perhaps just on shift. Although I can only speak for my own circumstances; I would venture a guess and say that most of us end up taking care of a whole lot of things on our own. In the past year I survived two blackouts, a surgery, and various things breaking down and blowing throughout the house. None of these events occurred when Roc was home. I had to deal with various institutions and people; I have often found myself unable to lift something without the help that I needed. All of that being said, I am no wimp. It just so happens that most of the frustrating things that come along with running a household happen to happen when I am flying solo. Last week, I spotted what looked like three bees buzzing around together outside, and I thought...hmmm...this crazy weather has got the bees out early. That was it. Then a day or two after that, I heard and then saw a rather large bee in my house. I followed it with my eyes and at first I thought that it looked like the cluster of bees I had noticed outside the other day. Oh no. This was a mutant bee. A humungous, disgusting bee, buzzing about my home, and when I took in his size, I swear I visibly blanched. Ugh. Of course, he was high up in my living room windows and I couldn't reach him in order to escort him out the window or perhaps the door. Roc was not at home, so I determined to keep an eye on the bee. And that was it. Of course I forgot; of course I told Roc at some point and he shrugged it off, and of course he thought I was exaggerating when I told him about the colossal size of the Bee. Keep in mind that I am not afraid of bugs in general. I will often escort a spider to the outside of my home, and I am not faint-hearted when it comes to insects.
That said, I was getting ready for bed the other night when I decided to text Roc real quick. He wasn't home yet and he wasn't sure when he was going to get there, as he had caught an arrest and the paperwork was never-ending. I told him I would see him later, and just as I went to put the phone at my bedside, I spied the BEE ON MY BED. Right underneath my pillow. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me; was it the Bee, or was it the pattern on my sheets? It was late, I was tired, and I realized that perhaps I was hallucinating. Then I leaned in and...OH GOD IT WAS THE BEE! UGH! ON MY BED!! UGH! I reared back and looked around for something, anything...I am a bibliophile, so there is always a large stack of books right next to my side of the bed. I grabbed the heaviest hard cover I had there and WHACK I decided to smother the bee. My dog jumped and so did I. Yuck. Then, just was I was about to remove the book and observe the carnage...I heard a loud BUZZ. I looked at my dog and she looked at me. She had heard it too. Oh no! What if I had simply aggravated the bee, and now the BEE AS BIG AS MY FIST was going to decide to attack me and sting me until my arms fell off?! I was about to remove the book and whack him again but then I decided to throw another book on top of the original book and really get this Buzzy Little Bastard this time. I picked up another tome and HI-YAHHED it on top of the first book. Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Oh Dear God. I picked up the second book again, and whacked it again, and again. Now my dog is terrified. She has jumped off the bed and made her way towards the door, curious as to why Mommy is acting like a complete savage.
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
I hit book to book another dozen times and this sonofabitch just keeps on coming. BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! It's like he's taunting me on my own bed. I look at the clock. It's now one o'clock in the morning, and nobody I know would be up at this hour. I need help; Roc is unavailable, and I actually contemplate calling my neighbor who is my stand-in husband whenever Roc is not around and there's a flood. I peek out the window and see their house, dark as a cave. I can't wake him up. I start to pace. Perhaps I can just leave the bee there and sleep downstairs until Roc gets home. This seems stupid to me, and I suddenly decide I am determined not to be run off by a bee. Albeit a big bee. I pick Book Number Two up again and decide to whack the shit out of the intruder hiding under Book One like I'm Karen on Mob Wives. There is no way this bitch is running me out of my bedroom. I whack, I slam, I beat the shit out of the bottom book until I am sweating like a wildebeest.
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! Oh, you have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. I am sweating bullets now, my dog is cowering in the corner, and I am making up curse words. I decide to text my brother. He is the only person I know who will be up at this hour. I text him: U UP? He calls me immediately. I apologize for scaring him, because after all my husband is a cop, and...well, you know. Then I tell him the story. He groans. "Are you sure it's a bee? If it's that big, it could be a baby bat." He says this as if he is being helpful. "Yes! It's STILL BUZZING! I am sure it's a bee!" Wait a sec. I have an idea, and I tell him I am going to try it and then call him back. I whack the bee one more time for good measure and after he buzzes to let me know he's still hanging in there, I decide to just get him out of the house. I begin to strip the sheets off the bed, and then I fold the fitted sheet over the book, wrapping both the bee and the book in the fitted sheet. When I go to pick up this flimsy trap off the bed, the bee starts going nuts and the buzzing seems to get louder. I realize I need to get him out, but what if he's not in there tight enough? I fly downstairs and get a big black garbage bag with a drawstring. I run back up, and proceed to lift the sheet/book/bee into the garbage bag. I am blanching, the bee is buzzing, and my dog is trying to keep out of my way. I high-tail it out of the bedroom, race downstairs, and haul the whole thing out onto my deck. The bee was still buzzing when I closed the deck door. I breathed for the first time in an hour.
I called my brother back and he says, "Feel better now?"
"Yeah, I guess it was time to change my sheets anyway."