I could hear buzzing as I was hanging and the louder it got, the faster I hung.
I’m anaphylactic. Bees are on my no go zone so I raced inside and shut the back doors and windows and then left a note on my list of things to do that encompassed “prune bee tree”. Hell, I can’t have the guests stung, or me doing the “chicken” as my throat closes over!
So my lovely day off, home alone, really was just about cleaning, ironing and cooking. What happened to sleep ins..?
So the Squeeze wanders in early from work and I suggest he cleans the bbq and he heads outside rather good naturedly for such a lazy S.O.B. Rather than me stay inside and complete my ironing, feeling guilty about the heavy work outside; I turn the iron off and go out to help.
I grab a set of 3 foot long pruning shears (I don’t want to get too close to the bees) and start lopping off the overhanging branches. And I’ll just admit for a second, I’m doing it with ease. These shears are heavy duty and not only am I snipping, but them I’m using them to flick the possible bee infested branches over my head.
That worked find until the squeeze approached during my upward swing and I clocked him on the forehead.