It’s been a minutes since I wrote anything on here. Although I’ve been intending to tell you about Wally for months.

Back in March, I woke up to a wasp in my bathroom. I studied that wasp for a moment and decided that if I left the bathroom the wasp problem would solve itself. Eventually though I had to get ready for work. And that requires a shower. The wasp was sitting in the shower window.

Now in general I don’t try to murder insects. I usually implement a catch and release plan. But both catch and release and murder seemed fraught. Because it’s me and if anything is possible to go wrong, it’s going to if I’m involved.

But needs must – I had to take a shower. So I decided to risk the third rail alternative and take a shower with the wasp. And he remained calm through out the shower and indeed seemed to enjoy the water spray.

So I began to worry about him. He was trapped and it was still too cold to let him out. So I made some simple syrup, put it in a plastic lid and put the syrup on the window sill for him.

That was when I realized I’d crossed out of crazy cat lady territory and into just crazy territory. I’d adopted a wasp. Naturally I named him. Wally Wasp.

My friends and family became very supportive of my new interest in caring for a wasp. My friend Chad discovered that there are, in fact, persons who adopt wasps as pets. They set up terrariums for them. I did not do that. Wally was free. Or freeish.

We determined that it was probably a paper wasp. I assigned his gender as male purely because I think of wasps as male and bees as female for some undetermined reason.

We got along quite well when he wasn’t trying to kill himself. And he did make some terribly unwise choices. A couple of days into his shower window occupation he flew out toward the shower curtain, got his by the shower water and nearly drowned. I saw it happen so I was able to stop the shower but the tub had an inch or so of water in it. I grabbed an empty toilet paper holder and held it down for him and he immediately clambered into it. I was very relieved.

But then he kamakazied on a different morning. I didn’t see it happen and so he was too week to hold onto the toilet paper roll, although he initially tried. I finally scooped him up, but he was limp and not responding. I was sure he was dead. I nearly cried. I left him laying on his side on the window sill expecting he would be where I left him when I got home. But nope. Mr. Wally pants was up and doing a jig. Died and resurrected. It was magic.

He hung out in the bathroom for about 6 weeks. A couple of weeks ago, I decided it was probably warm enough and I really wanted him to have at least some happiness. Because I really don’t think he was happy living in on porcelain tiles. Poor little one. So I let him step into the toilet paper holder one more time and we went out on the balcony. I had put a thing of syrup out in one of the flower pots and I put the roll in the pot. He walked out and onto the dirt and seemed like he was just going to stay. But he flew away and did not come back.

Spring was in full force so I’m sure he had a blast. Or at least I hope so.