At 3:30ish this morning, I woke up to a tickle on my arm, and when I reached to itch it, it stung me.
Wouldn't you know, I have a bee hive in my house for three months and don't get stung; I have it removed, and that night I'm stung by a bee.
Bobby must have been sleeping pretty lightly, because he asked me what was wrong when I cursed the bee. We laid there silently listening for buzzing. The next one found Bobby instead of me. "There's one next to my knee on the sheet. If I move it's probably going to sting me."
All I could think about were the stray bees leftover in the house, and my bare feet. I found my cell phone and my glasses on the bedside table, and illuminated my way to the light switch. The bee near his knee flew up to the beam at the ceiling.
Now that the hive was gone, I have no qualms about killing the few bees that are left. They will most likely die anyway, right? So I grabbed a magazine and swatted the two bees left flying around our room. We checked the bed, and made sure to cover up with at least the sheet.
In the morning, there were still some random bees flying confusedly around the back room. There was a streak of honey on one of the windows back there too, as if a bee had thrown up or something. We'll have to make sure to wear shoes or watch where we are walking until these bees finally clear out.