Facing my phobia the hard way...

OK, so anyone who knows me knows that bees freak me out. Well, guess what happens to be located somewhere in the ceiling of my new apartment? That's right. A whole freakin' nest of them. At first I thought the mysterious buzzing sound I heard whenever I went to the bathroom was an electrical problem. No such luck. Yesterday was the first day I was home in the morning; once I noticed the steady stream of bees flying in and out of a spot somewhere above my window, I called the manager, who as it turned out had already hired an exterminator. The exterminator came today, but I'm thinking he did so when the bees were out gathering pollen or whatever it is they do, because now they're all back and they're all pissed. Wouldn't you be if you came home from a normal day at work to find your house destroyed and your children poisoned to death?
What's worse than a bee's nest somewhere in your ceiling? Uh, I don't know, how about a SWARM of FUCKING DISGRUNTLED BEES throwing themselves at your window? Maybe they'll give up and find another place to nest, but I'm guessing they'll bond in the face of today's tragic events, embark on a journey of healing and rebirth, and declare a War on Humans, starting with me. My window really isn't all that thick.