The majority of my morning at work was spent battling with a wasp.
He was big, and looked mean. I hid out in my office as much as I could, keeping an eye on him through the glass but knew I'd eventually have to kill that wasp.
The first tactic I used against him was a rolled up magazine. Fail. Either it was to small or my arms are too short because that magazine just wasn't reaching.
Next up was the 1.5 inch three ring binder. Fail. I think all I did was show him what a nice, strong breeze felt like.
Then came the 3 inch three ring binder. Almost, but no, therefore a fail. I had originally intended to smoosh him with the spine of the binder, which I was able to accomplish twice (based on the crunch) but that little booger survived both smooshing attempts.
So, I went back to the smaller binder. By this point this wasp is pissed. And as I'm standing there trying to get up my courage to make yet another attempt at taking this wasp's life...he charges at me. Yes, you read that correctly...he. charged. at. me.
I started flailing the binder all around me (eyes closed, of course) in an attempt to hit him but instead tripped over my own feet and fell hard on my right wrist and butt. Then, because I have the weirdest emotions EVER, I started to laugh uncontrollably. So loud that my coworker came out of her office down the hall to assure I was ok. I assured her that I was fine, just embarrassed that a wasp was giving me so much trouble.
Finally, she saved the day. She took her shoe and climbed up on a chair and gave that wasp what I had been attempting to give him for the past half hour...death. Success!