When five different programs are running smoothly, I’m conflicted between continuing to work since I’m obviously on such a roll and getting the hell out of the computer lab before everything goes wrong and I have to clean up the mess. So just now when face with that choice I decided to go for a walk, leave my various processes to themselves, and savor a few minutes of productivity without actually doing anything.
Since I came here, there has been a beehive in the corner of the courtyard. This was not what I would picture a beehive to be, a North American beehive, but some strange new Indian design. The bees lived happily on the outside. In fact for all I know there may have been no hive at all, just layer upon layer of bee, each holding onto their brothers who held onto their brothers, with the very strongest clinging to the ceiling for dear life. It was slightly scary seeing hundreds of bees either sleeping or poised to attack. Whenever one adjusted its wings it sent ripples across the hive not unlike when one person adjusts to make room on a bench and everybody along the length hops over an inch or two.
But today as I went for my savory walk, there was no beehive to pass, no evidence of it ever having been there in fact. I would have liked to see it come down. I know I’ve been tempted to throw rocks at it for days. Part of me hopes one of the deep down bees had an itch he needed to scratch and just for one moment let go of the wall, only to have the whole conglomerate of self-adhesive fall down and disperse like mist. Buzzing, angry, stingy mist. Actually knowing that a cloud of angry recently evicted bees has been released into the wild is a little more worrisome than knowing they were safely huddled in the corner of the courtyard. At least there they sat happily not stinging me. Now they could be anywhere, lurking behind any corner, a deadly cloud ready to attack yet again. I’d rather they were just poised again instead of prowling. They’re as bad as the leopard.