Squishing up a baby bumblebee

Last night, I sent the following to Jacob in an email while he was at work:

"So, a couple hours ago I was chilling on the couch, checking out ye olde Facebook or something inconsequential like that, when I heard an ominous buzzing noise. I figured it was merely a fly, but the buzzing was louder than you might expect. Unless it was perhaps a horsefly. A moment later I glanced upward, and to my shock and horror a ginormous yellow jacket/bee (should I know the difference?) was hovering above me! I did the only rational thing: I grabbed my laptop, booked it to the smaller bedroom, and slammed the door behind me. After twenty minutes, I decided to be brave and venture into the rest of the apartment to see if it was still there or not. I checked each room and didn't see or hear anything, so I'm really hoping it flew out a window. If not, I may die a little in my sleep."

I ended up closing the kitchen and living room windows in an attempt to keep out the bee (as it turned out it was) before going to bed. This morning, Jacob called me while I was just waking up and requested, as usual, that I brush my teeth before he arrived home. (You'd think after nearly three and a half years of marriage he could overlook a little morning breath of death. Alas.) As I walked out toward the bathroom, I saw the bee flying around our living room window! Apparently it hadn't made a Houdini-esque escape after all.

I bravely approached the window, opened it halfway to encourage the bee to fly out, and then locked myself in the bathroom in a panic. I called Jacob back to inform him of the situation, and he instructed me to kill it with a fly swatter.

Yeah . . . like that was going to happen.

He came home shortly, and I handed him the fly swatter to do his thing. But at that point, the bee had flown between the two panes of glass. I suggested just closing the window to trap the bee and let it die slowly.

Jacob: Oh, you're okay letting the bee die slowly, but you're not okay killing it with a fly swatter?
Me: This way is more non-confrontational.

Jacob ended up closing the window the rest of the way, which encased the bee in fairly tight quarters. When I arrived home from work, the bee had fallen to the window sill and looked like it was nearly severed in two pieces. Perhaps trapping it was a little more gruesome than I'd expected.

At any rate, Jacob requested that I dispose of the carcass. I preferred letting the corpse stay on the window sill as a warning to all other potential intruders. (That, and I didn't want to touch it, even with an extension of the arm, such as a paper or fly swatter.) 

So Jacob ended up taking care of that part, as well. Good man.