7:58 am: sound asleep.
8:00 am: is someone running a weed whacker right next to my bed? Wha’?
8:05 am: weed whacker? lawn mower? But it sounds like it’s in the house…in the window?
8:07 am: HOLY SHIT THERE’S A BUMBLEBEE IN HERE!
8:08 am: grab all four cats–two of whom are RIGHT UP IN the window where the bumblebee is–and try to get them all out of the room, and the door shut, before someone winds up with a mouthful of bee.
8:15 am: all four cats have been removed, and I am standing over a sleeping GB yelling “there’s a bumblebee in my room!”
8:16 am: when in doubt, check email.
8:20 am: GB staggers in with a makeshift bee catcher constructed from a paper towel tube and a torn up cereal box. The bee is laying low and is nowhere to be found. I suggest that it might have been unwell and died in the interim. GB goes back to bed.
8:25 – 8:50 am: feed the cats, make coffee, start reading blogs. Figure the coast is clear, and let the cats back in to the room.
8:51 am: two cats pounce at the window directly over my desk where the bumblebee is frantically beating against the windowpane. I start another round of yelling and cat-herding.
8:55 am: LB: “Gospel Bob, the bee is back!” GB: “So I gathered.”
8:56 am: GB sleepily stumbles back in with the bee-catcher. It’s eerily quiet. GB suggests, relatively kindly, that I might be completely losing it and hallucinating the bumblebee.
9:00 am: GB goes back to bed, leaving the cardboard bee-catcher on my desk.
9:30 am: That little fucker is just lying in wait. Where is it??? When will it come blasting up into the window again? Will the cats eat it? Is it currently burrowed into my sheets?

This has the makings of a long day.

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