Last week around Monday I noticed four bee carcasses next to the window in my bathroom. It isn’t unusual to find dead insects in my apartment because a. it is very poorly sealed in places and b. I have a cat that enjoys killing most things. Anyway, since it was Forest Festival week, I just assumed that they’d come into town, drank too much, and died from an overdose of funnel cake (bees love funnel cake, and if you think about it, of course they would) and choking on their own vomit (honey).
But then there were more. Six, and eight of them. And then there were two crawling in my kitchen! and another dead one nearby. I swept all of them up on Saturday, held a full catholic funeral, and this morning I counted seven more carcasses that have built up since then.
This is disturbing for a number of reasons. One, I am running out of space for their burials. Two, I never know when I’m going to step on one that hasn’t quite died yet, thus fulfilling it’s desire to sting me before it dies, a problem that is keeping me out of my bathroom and thus keeping me from engaging in proper hygiene. Three, THERE ARE BEES CRAWLING OUT OF MY WALLS AND DYING. And that is grotesque and alarming.
There are two explanations that I can see. Either there is a hive in the walls that is dying from how cold it has become or this is a sign of the end times. Frankly, I don’t see why it can’t be both.
The worst part is I actually like bees a lot. They’re one of my favorite insects. I don’t like their little fuzzy dead bodies around me, reminding me of my mortality all the time. One of them actually died next to my “Honey for Health!” hat, which has a picture of a very healthy little bee on it.
*It took me a long time to come up with a suitable pun. I’ve been thinking about it for days.