I Married a Dentist, Part 2: Bees in the Bathroom

So you know all about the house in Broken Arrow from the earlier post so I'm not going to go into detail about it's other charming qualities but the bathroom was it's own unique domain.  I should specify the indoor bathroom as the place also had an outdoor, or rather, garage bathroom.  There was one room set aside in the garage, next to the door out of the kitchen and between the kitchen and Don's shop/tooth making emporium, that was designated a bathroom.  It did have a sink, toilet, and shower along with the hot water tank.  The toilet and sink worked and although the wimmenfolk were squeamish about it, I figured "any port in a storm" especially if the inside toilet was taken by aforementioned wimmenfolk. Showering was the bigger challenge.  One had to plan ahead like Sir Edmund Hillary heading for the mountains.  Since the garage while technically having a concrete floor, was always covered with a layer of dirt given the fact the genius who planned the garage put it DOWNHILL from the driveway so all the water and dirt ran right in.  Of course one could clean it on an ongoing basis but for the reasoning why that didn't happen see part 1.  Anyway, because of the dirt floor, you had to plan to find an off-floor parking place for one's towel and toiletries like the toilet tank or sink.  You also had to plan a pair of shoes or flip-flops to carry yourself from the kitchen to the shower.  This is where the juggling act began.  The shower consisted of water pipes (hot and cold) and mixing valve, shower head, curtain (one must remember the proprieties) and a wooden pallet to stand on under which was a floor drain.  Store the toiletries and towel, slip off the flip-flops and onto the pallet; do one's ablutions, then don't forget to slip into the flip-flops BEFORE stepping onto the floor or it's back into the shower for a ceremonial foot washing.
But I digress as the point of the story is the indoor bathroom. It wasn't too bad all in all.  Linoleum floor with old bathtub, sink, toilet, and along the wall a large mirror and built in vanity.  Spartan furnishings but good enough for me.  The wimmenfolk were somewhat hesitant at times since the door lock was broken and one had to pull out a drawer from the vanity which kept the door from opening but would leave enough room to peek in if you really wanted to.  Oh, and there was the problem that, since the house was on a cistern and water had to be hauled (200 gallons at a time in a tank in the back of a Chevy Luv pickup which had seen better days) it was best not to flush too much so things tended to stand for awhile before them more delicate among us would trip the handle.  Now this wasn't as much a problem in the summer since the house was air conditioned with multiple window units which, handily, dripped condensate and could be caught in a 5 gallon bucket which, which when taken and stored in the bathroom, could be used to pour 3 or so gallons into the bowl and "voila!" a cheap flush.
But here I am again wandering from the story.  So we were visiting and the call of nature occurred so since the room was vacant at the time, I grabbed a good book and headed there for some serious meditating.  In the door, pull out the  drawer, take a seat and get on with it.  I might note that Don must've had stock in a duct tape factory as it was used in copious amounts all over the place and one that got good use, was the old linoleum floor. It had a few gaps in the floor around the toilet and tub and the tape came in handy to keep the bugs out.  Except today, the tape had gotten loose.  Unbeknown to me, bees had taken up lodging in the bedroom exterior wall upstairs directly above the bathroom (the bedroom was off limits for that reason) and for some unknown reason had come downstairs.

I first noticed a bee by my leg flying up and as soon as I saw him I noticed he had buddies.  In fact, a whole stream of them came through the hole next to the toilet and started to do the Immelman loop above my head.  It was at that time I figured it was time to beat a hasty retreat, yelled, "Mom there's bees in the bathroom!", grabbed my drawers and fled for my life.  After almost tearing the drawer off it's slide getting out the door, I noticed in the mirror on my way out, the room was virtually filled with bees.

Don to the rescue!  He came with a can of wasp spray, kicked open the door, and proceeded to knock bees out of the sky like the British Spitfires at the Battle of Britain.  When the carnage ended, there was dead bees everywhere and wasp spray dripping off the mirrors, light fixtures, and porcelain.  This is when it's handy to have the wimmenfolk as they came in and cleaned up and all went back to "normal".  The only after affect was when I went in to shave the next morning, the sink wouldn't drain.  Clogged up with dead bees.



I guess the moral of that story is...always check yer duct tape before you drop yer drawers.