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Jen Keane @zenbuffy
, 26 tweets, 4 min read Read on Twitter
So, last night, I had a Bee Adventure. It was far more dramatic than I had the ability to cope with after 10pm!
I had left clothes out to dry during the day because, of course, there's great drying out. I got back from tap, and was like "oh, it's gotten a bit dark, I should take those in".
I carried in everything, including two of those little multi-peg things for socks and such. I had my swimming togs on two of those little pegs, and when I took them off and popped them on my pile of laundry, they buzzed.

A loud, angry kind of buzz.
I moved them. They buzzed again.

I chucked them on the floor, like any self-respecting person would do.

They buzzed, and a bee emerged.

A big giant feckin bee!

Gah! Panic!
So I'm there, standing in my kitchen thinking "ok Jen, you're a friend of nature, trying to recycle and compost and all that jazz, you've gotta save this here bee".

So I try to gently move the togs towards the open back door.

And it all goes terribly wrong...
This stupid bee takes off like a damn rocket as soon as I touch the togs, and starts flying around the kitchen like some sort of mad thing. Bashing off presses and walls and such.

I'm like "ok, this is fine. Just use your smarts, and also the internet. You can do this"
And this is how I spent the next 15 minutes selectively turning on and off different sections of kitchen lights to try and "guide" the bee outdoors, chasing the furry little dope around my kitchen with spoons of sugar water, and preparing my "bee jar" to catch it.
The bee did not appreciate my offerings of sugar water spoons, even though they were certainly delicious, and continued to fly around all over the place like a loud buzzy terror.

Eventually, it went up on top of my presses, and then I really panicked.
You can't tell from my profile picture, but I am pretty darn short.

There's only one way for me to reach the top of my presses, over the little pelmet thing, and that's for me to stand on the counter.

To safely climb up there, I usually put one hand on the pelmet.
But I *can't* put my hand on the pelmet, because the bee is up there somewhere!

I tried to brush around up there with a little swiffer mop, but no dice. The bee had settled in for life up there.

No choice, have to climb on the counter.

Panic.
If I climb on the counter, and put my hand up there, and the bee touches me or flies out toward my face, or stings me, as I precariously balance on the counter, I will fully freak out, and definitely fall off the counter. And die. And be eaten by a bee.
So, as you can see, I was approaching this very rationally.
I prepared my bee jar, and climbed up onto the counter. I have *never* grasped the pelmet so gingerly in my whole damn life.

Climbed on up there, and lo and behold, the little fecker had settled on the back of the pelmet! Like, an inch or two from where I put my hand!!!
So, like a ninja, I plonked my bee jar down on top of him.

And then I realised a critical issue.

I had brought a bee jar, but not any sort of card to slide *under* the bee jar. And the back of the pelmet is slanted. So I can't let go of the bee jar now.
I am trapped. Standing on my counter. Holding a jar over a sleepy angry bee on a slanted kitchen press pelmet.

Bugger.
I reached down to my cook book shelf, and grabbed the only thing I thought might work - a tiny booklet of recipes that came with some flavouring oils I bought a while ago (Thanks LorAnn Oils).

I tried to slide it under the jar.
It was a disaster. I slid it open end first so the pages all started to bunch up, and the bee started buzzing, and I'm just like "is this my life now, holding this stupid furry dope forever in my slanted bee jar?"
Nevertheless, I prevailed, and slid the crumpled booklet under the jar.

Victory!

Climbed down, grabbed the jar lid and flipped the jar, lightly popping it on top!

I am a fucking nature goddess.
Brought my bee jar outside and popped it up on the wheelie bin in my back garden, took the jar lid off, and cheesed it back inside.

I heard nothing. No buzzing.

Bee? Wtf are you doing bee?
Peeped back outside.

The stupid be was trying to climb up the inside of the jar instead of, like, flying out of the open top.

I told you this bee was stupid.

So, continuing my nature goddess role, I tipped the jar on its side and cheesed it back inside once again.
Y'all, the bee flew into the closed end of the jar.

<facepalm>
One last brainwave, and I went out into my garden and made sure to activate my outdoor light again.

Turned the far so the open end faced towards the light, and fled back to my door.

Finally, at long last, the bee left the jar!
In conclusion, not all heroes wear capes.
Ok, so I should clarify. I am calling my wall cupboards presses. Because they are presses.

But now that I'm done sharing my bee adventure, I recall that some people do not use the word "press" and so are probably reading this like "wtf is a press and a pelmet"
These are presses and I've marked the pelmet with an arrow.

These are not my presses because these ones are beautiful and, as you can see, have no bees.
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