Those Bees!

I'm out mowing my lawn because I live in a typical suburban neighborhood with an HOA. They insist on it. When I planted a garden in my front yard, they told me I wasn't allowed to have a fence. Well, you can't have a garden in North Carolina without a fence. Bambi likes veggies even if your suburban children don't. You can't have a lawn at home with an HOA without mowing it. So, back to the lawn mowing.

I'm mowing my lawn with my self-propelled, gas-powered mower because I have an acre to mow. Can I say I was wearing a bathing suit because the neighbors like it and still be a feminist? No? Well, it was easily above 95 degrees. I was wearing attire to match the weather. Right as the mower crossed a hole, I thought to myself, "that looks like a bee's n... OH MY GOD THAT HURTS! RUN, FEET! SWING HEAD SIDE TO SIDE! OWWWWCHCHCHCH"

These thoughts were quickly followed by, "I'm going to get back at those bees. They can't still be there tomorrow. My kids play there! My hammock is there! I'm getting the gasoline."

I'd like to tell you it took less than overnight for those thoughts to sink in. But anyway - the next day, I was overwhelmed with the guilt of destroying the natural habitat of possible honey-producing bees. Google taught me that 70% of the 20,000 species of bees are ground-nesting. Most of them produce honey. And their population numbers are devastated because of oil and gas.

Oh. I'm a bad person.

I'm going to get a push mower and wear more clothes. Dear bees, I'm sorry.