bridgecity's Diaryland Diary

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Private Property

There was a lot to do when I moved back to Austin. Things had been hectic for months. The list of disappointments was long. Trying to relax was hard. I donated my car to the radio station. They told me I was a great, great person for what I’d done. My new pills make me not get drunk right. The storage space flooded during the great floods of 2015. One large cutting board, an iron skillet and sheep skin fur got moldy. A man from the home-security company threatened me after refusing to sign up. He “knows where I live”. Insidious hackberry’s taunt my sinuses.
All at once, many wasps’ nests began construction under the eves of the house. The house is tall and awkward. I opened and climbed the ladder carefully with a can of spearmint wasp spray in my hand. I sprayed a long stream across the eves dousing all the nest. Wasps instantly lost their hold and began plummeting, plummeting onto my head and shoulders and face and hands. A stinging rain of sweet smelling spearmint spray rained down on me. I laughed and shook the wasp carcasses off my body. I climbed down the ladder and repeated this action 4 times along the eves, each time getting covered with dying wasps and wasp poison, laughing, not an evil laugh, not any kind of menacing cackle. I was happy. Happy to be engaging in simple constructive activity for the good of my private property.

12:02 a.m. - 2015-07-15

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