Wasp Eviction – A Deployment DIY Tale

There’s something about deployment that gives military spouses an inflated sense of confidence when it comes to home maintenance. Suddenly, we’re electricians, plumbers, ladder engineers, and HVAC experts—all while juggling the everyday chaos of solo parenting, careers, and the occasional emotional spiral. And when you live in a military neighborhood, the confidence is contagious.

So here’s a funny one for you.

Both my husband and my next-door neighbor’s husband are deployed. Same unit. Same timeline. Basically, we’re riding solo together through this wild ride. So when a wasp problem cropped up on her second-story window—an actual gap where they were building their own little resort—it was obvious: we were going to fix it ourselves.

We head to Lowe’s like two very confident, but very underqualified women on a mission. We buy the biggest ladder they sell (because go big or go home), a tube of gap filler, and say, “We’ve got this. We’ll tackle it tomorrow.”

Tomorrow shows up with the heat index of Satan’s armpit.

We drag out the giant ladder—this transformer-esque contraption with more levers and locks than we know what to do with—and spend a solid 20 minutes arguing with it like it’s a stubborn toddler. Then we realize… one of us has a fear of heights. Correction: both of us do.

Plan B? Let’s get creative.

I volunteer as tribute and Spider-Man myself out the second-story window while my neighbor has wrapped her arms around my legs to prevent what would’ve surely been a very dramatic headline in the neighborhood Facebook group. We get to work filling the gap while balancing life and limb. It’s going great… until the heat kicks in full force.

That’s when I start seeing spots.

But do I stop? No. Of course not. I do what any overly determined, heat-delirious military spouse would do—I take a few breaths, curse the sun, and go back out the window.

Big mistake.

Suddenly, everything gets muffled. The world goes fuzzy. I mumble something like, “I’m gonna need a minute,” climb down, stumble across the yards into my house like I’ve just survived a quest, grab an ice pack, and promptly lay on my cool tile floor in full defeat.

And bless my neighbor—she walks in to check on me and finds me face-up with an ice pack on my forehead like I’ve just completed a half-marathon on the sun. I mumble, “I’m fine. We’ll finish the other side later,” like some war-hardened DIY veteran.

And we laughed. Oh, did we laugh.

Hours later, the temperature dropped and a perfect breeze rolled in like the universe mocking us gently. “We could’ve just waited until tonight,” we say in unison while having our evening driveway chat.

But here’s the thing: we weren’t just fixing a window. We were holding each other up—literally and figuratively. And that’s the beauty of military spouse friendships. When your partner is deployed and things go sideways (or up 20 feet), there’s always someone ready to climb a metaphorical ladder with you—even if it’s sweltering and slightly dangerous.

Because in this life? You laugh, you sweat, you almost pass out—and then you grab an ice pack and do it all over again.