So I spent all day paranoid and freaked out over a wasp in my room, the bastard kept hiding and only coming out again after I'd figured him dead finally. He'd been smacked twice by my greatmother with a flyswat, sprayed with poison and just generally harassed. If I didn't hate them so much I might be impressed. We finally managed to kill it an hour
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Also Irony because the first time I saw this someone was vacuuming the living room.
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