It also helped me to feel a bit more settled about having a new house. Strangely, I think the reason for feeling so odd about it was that it felt like we were intruding on someone else's property. Technically it is ours - every brick, floorboard and lightswitch - but I guess it takes time for the reality to sink in.
As we set about making our mark on our home, we noticed a droning, buzzing sound coming from under the ground floor.
Wifey waited for the pest control guy to come round and, sure enough, there was a colony of potentially angry bumble bees right underneath our feet.
If we'd pulled up a floorboard they probably would have swarmed to protect the queen and done some serious stinging. It doesn't bear thinking about.
Sadly, the bees just had to go. Apparently, pest control prefer to leave bees - they're an important insect to the ecosystem and don't cause any bother unless aggravated. Unfortunately, having them living right beneath was dangerous. It was either us or them.
The bees had several hundred stingers, an acute sense of direction and dynamic flying capabilities at their disposal. Us humans, on the other hand, had two smoke bombs.
The battle was swift and bloody. In a matter of minutes, the colony had fallen and the bees were no more. Wifey found the bee's reaction to the attack quite upsetting - she said she could hear their screams of pain as they died. Sob.
I do feel bad about what we did, but then I'm glad we've been spared the fate of Macaulay Culkin from 1991's My Girl (oops - spolier! sorry!).
Rest assured, to atone for our sins we'll probably make a donation to some bee charity.