We bought a case (that's not a typo) of Spectracide wasp spray yesterday. I'm sure the guy at Home Depot must have thought we'd lost our minds. My husband spent part of the weekend spraying the wasp nests under the eaves around the house.
The first floor seems to be nest-free; the second floor's nests are sprayed but not knocked down; and the third floor.... ah, the third floor. How in the world do you get way up there to aim a 30-foot spray underneath the eaves without either having the wind blow the spray back at you, or a sense of imbalance sends you tumbling towards the first floor. For now, the wasps have control of the third floor.
My plan was to call one of the pest-control companies... they come with a truck equipped with enough insect spray to eliminate half the bugs in state of Texas, plus the pressure in that long garden hose attached to the spray canister is probably powerful enough to blow the shingles off the roof.
My husband's plan was to just take care of the problem himself. "I can certainly do that," said he. And so he did. The wasps on the first and second floors are deceased; the third floor wasps are searching for a disco ball to hang up underneath the highest pitch of the roof-line.
And still, after all those cans of Spectracide, I can't walk three steps around any part of the property without hearing a wasp buzzing near my ears or getting stuck in my hair or coming within a blessed inch of landing on my nose.
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