It was the swarm of 2019, just enough to make me close the door and call the landlord who in the end discussed how much better it would be if I called someone else about bees and him just about turkeys. If ever there were a swarm of turkeys taking over the place, inside and out, then I should call him. But bees. Uncle Ronnie on the bees.
Today I am grateful for some help, some comedy, that everybody is okay, and that no, it wasn't the tribulation or some horror movie I witnessed as a kid. That was simply a burst of energy and a dang, dusty room. Now it ain't.
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