If you are deathly afraid of wasps and suddenly have three nests in your garden

My trauma stems from my childhood. I still see my teacher Piet from grade seven sucking a stinger out of my ring finger so that I wouldn't swell to an out-of-proportion size. Because that's what I do when I get stung by one thing or another: develop gigantic lumps or strange allergic reactions. You probably won't be surprised when I say that I react somewhat panically to wasps. If you see someone running down the street with flailing hands, there's a good chance it's me being chased by something buzzing.

With a new house and a new garden in an area where you expect insects, it's not immediately alarming when a wasp appears. I thought April 3rd was a bit early, but hey, it was a mild winter and we live in nature. Until I looked out the window in my bedroom and literally saw the wasps tumbling over each other into the gutter. No joke: they were rolling in a ball of three or four happily over the tiles. A shiver ran from my crown to my tailbone because: please let it not be a wasp nest. After three days of meticulous inspection, we even thought we had two. I didn't dare sit in my garden for a second longer, so I called pest control, who thankfully showed up within 24 hours.

Pest controller Mark was going to take care of that little problem, at least that's how he looked when I opened the door. I thought of protective suits, goggles, and masks, but not for Mark, no. He just walked into the garden in a t-shirt and with his ladder, accompanied by a bit of aftershave. To clarify: I haven't even dared to wear a little perfume indoors for three days. Or if I could point them out to him. Of course, I did, with a lot of waving, during which I (I swear) saw him chuckle softly. Clear case: it was a lemonade wasp, he told me, one of those really annoying ones. And by the way, I didn't have one nest in the garden, but there were three (!) wasp nests. It's just that I didn't know the best man from pest control that well; otherwise, I would have run into my house in a hurry. I closed windows and doors when he started, turned on my radio and television just about, but stood there with wide eyes watching the stuff he was spraying under the roof tiles, followed by some swirling yellow-black rascals. By the way, Mark was still just standing on that ladder in his t-shirt, not at all worried.

The words ‘just let them be for a few hours because they are a bit angry now’ are still buzzing around in my head. I would almost think that they are waiting for me in formation in the garden to teach me a lesson. I just called Kiki with my earbuds in, and I swear I thought I heard buzzing; I even took one earbud out to listen if it was in my head. The best man also pressed on me that I really had to call back if they weren't gone in two weeks. NOT GONE? How come: not gone? But of course, I didn't dare to ask that, so I just nodded bravely in agreement.

In the meantime, I keep thinking about the story that wasps have such strong jaws that they can eat through concrete. By the way, pest controller Mark also left the gate to the neighbors open, but I don't dare to close it at all.

I know very well that there are more serious issues in life, but I'm just not experiencing much at the moment, and I'm afraid of wasps, so forgive me.