So, in the ongoing saga of English insects making attempts on my life, a wasp flew into my room
the other day several weeks ago.
He was Donkey Kong boss-level size and, at the time, buzzed around my window before escaping once again. But this was not the last I saw of the little beast. Oh no.
Midnight, playing on Pottermore, window open as per usual, the blasted winged thing from hell came back into my room. This time it flew to my lampshade. I promptly had a panic attack that ultimately resulted in me jockeying around my lampshade while trying to put on shoes. A transatlantic call to my father had me throwing boxes of contacts at my lampshade in an attempt to get it out of my lampshade without being in the path of stings/attacks/doom. Finally, after some hyperventilation and calm coaching from my papa, I flicked the winged death-bringer from the lampshade with a rolled up High Street section of Elle UK and beat the thing to death with a moleskin.
And shut my window.
After my palpitations subsided I practiced spells with my new ebony, phoenix feather, 10 inch (UNYIELDING) wand. I do a mean bat-bogey hex.