We have an update: the bees, it turns out, were not what we thought. (Just like in X-Files). Turns out the photo sent by my realtor--the one in the post below--was NOT a photo of their hive. Yesterday the realtor showed me where on our tree he'd seen the "hive"--towards the front, facing the house. When I showed him the actual hive--which is in the back of the tree, away from the house--he was confused.
So what had he photographed? A swarm. Bees living in the hive had outgrown the space and decided to emigrate. When this happens, they first assemble in a pack. That's what he had seen--a group of departing, colonist bees getting their marching orders. Sitting on the docks, waiting for their outbound ocean liners, so to speak.
But now they're gone. The hive is massively reduced, and there are no bees visible from the house. So all is well, at least bee-wise, with our home.
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I spent the last day and a half finding and haggling with the tile guy cum painter who we're using to spiff up our home before next week's showing. First, I bargained his initial quote down by 20%. Then I felt bad that I was making him do a big job (four days of work) for too small an amount. So I told him I'd give him back 10% of the fee at the end of the job, assuming it was done well. Not exactly the most ruthless of negotiators, am I.
|Bink lobbying to leave the beehive alone. "Can't we all just get along?"|
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I've just finished Grand Expectations, part of the Oxford History of the US. It covers the period from the death of FDR to the resignation of Nixon. Nixon was a terrible terrible person. That's my 5 second précis. Even worse than I knew. There's really almost nothing good you can say about him--even the much-ballyhooed 'opening up to China' was mostly a sham. I'm going to write some more about that soon. Also surprised by how little impressed I came away by JFK. The more I learn about him, the more hollow and inadequate he seems. All charisma and good lucks, but very little real acumen. They were ruthless, those Kennedys. Not a very inspiring bunch.
Reading now a truly unusual book: Nightmare Alley by Thomas Love Peacock. I'll try to talk about that too. But now, the painter has arrived. He is about to start power-cleaning the outside of the house. Thank God the wife took The Bink to be boarded. If he'd had to stay indoors all day while men worked on the exterior of our house he would have lost his fuzzy little mind.