Day after day, a single bee ambles into my house through the open terrace doors and then rambles around for hours. They seem to be in search of something. They examine everything—my shoes, my paintings, my pantry. But they seem not to be able to find the doors wide open ever again. In the end, they collapse on the floor. Or I kill them before sunset, when I close all the doors. I do not remember rambling bees the previous years. If a bee would ever amble into the house by chance, it would leave it quickly, too. This year it is different, or so it seems to me. For the first time, the bees seem to be genuinely confused. They are searching in vain. Is this something associated with the so-called colony collapse disorder that is spreading through Europe? Am I witnessing the bees that have abandoned their hives for some reason? I cannot possibly tell, of course, but I still believe that the bees that get trapped in my house day after day are a part of a bigger pattern. A bigger confusion. The mother of all confusions, perhaps.