That sting left me with a pretty big fear of bees. So to combat my fear my mother gave me a piece of advice, "If a bee is around you, just stand very still, because the bee just thinks you are a flower, and once he realizes you are not a flower he will fly away." She made me realize I didn't have to fear the bees; they were just innocent, confused little creatures. So life was great until the day I spent an entire hour at Spanish Lake Park sitting stock still on top of the jungle gym, with tears streaming down my face because a honeybee just wouldn't go away. My mom had to literally grab me and run, it was the only way I was coming down from there. I wasn't stung that day, but I've always held onto the belief that each bee has their own internal GPS system, and that they were all programmed to track me. And if I ran from the bee its GPS would just recalculate, just as my GPS does whenever I refuse to bend to her will.
So I went 18 years without a sting, but all that flew out the window two weeks ago. I always take Sarah out for her morning walk. Adam used to take her for her morning walk, and I would take her out in the evening. But it seems that all the crazies in the neighborhood come out at night, and the crazies like to hit on me, and it all made me very uneasy. That and Adam always plays video games on Saturday mornings, and it made him feel bad when I would roll out of bed at noon and remark, "You Haven't Walked the Dog YET?" I haven't asked Adam, but I know my husband pretty well, and I'm sure he was more concerned about his "gamer guilt" than me being scared of the crazies.
My grumpiness and laziness in the morning is legendary, and I would like nothing more than to just roll out of bed and take Sarah out in my pjs. But I don't know how the crazies would react . So I usually just pull a pair of pants out of the laundry and head out the door. This particular morning was no different. I had already leashed Sarah and she was really hyper because I had just yelled," You want to go Walkies?" I hate to admit that I routinely use the word "walkies". And when I say "walkies" her head explodes and she can't contain her excitement. Because she is going outside! Where she can eat chicken bones off the sidewalk! And sniff other dog's butts! And greet people who might not want to be greeted!"
I threw on my pants and sat down to tie my shoes, and all of a sudden my left butt check felt like it was on fire. I immediately ran to the mirror and saw a perfect red circle on my butt. I couldn't figure it out. At this point Sarah is whining and going crazy because we have yet to go outside, and I am totally confused and in pain. I walk into the living room, and I see something crawling on the floor. I think it’s a spider, and I'm sure I'm about to die, so I call Adam at work to tell him that I'm dying (He appreciated the heads up). But when I get a closer look I see that it is a bee, and the bee is now dying a slow & painful death on the hardwood floor. First I call Adam back and tell him I'm not dying. Then I run to the bathroom and get some insect spray, and in a rage I spray the s*** out of that thing. It finally died and I left it there on the floor for Adam to clean up when he got home, because I couldn't bring myself to touch it. This is what men are for, to kill and clean up the bugs.
But you may be wondering how a bee got into my pants INSIDE my home. You see Adam and I live in a tiny little cottage, and we are lucky enough to have our own washer and dryer. But the exhaust tube from the dryer isn't built in, so when we dry clothes we have to open up the window and hang the tube out of it. Folks this is what $1200 a month rent in Southern California will get you: a non built in dryer tube, a lopsided toilet, weird peach colored bedroom walls, no dishwasher, and a lawn the size of a postage stamp. And we absolutely love our home. One day we will have children, and they will inevitably throw temper tantrums over material things that they will believe they cannot be happy without. We will have to sit them down and tell them about the days when we first got married. When we had little money and not a lot of luxuries, but we laughed all the time and were perfectly happy. This will drive our kids bonkers I'm sure.
So I guess it is possible that while doing laundry a bee could fly in through the window. After a while, the bee began losing strength and it crawled into my track pants to die. And then I put on the pants and the bee mustered up enough strength to sting the heck out of my behind. Let me tell you that sting itched like crazy. There is nothing sexier than when you are constantly walking around scratching your butt. So now not only do I have a renewed bee phobia, but I also feel nervous when I'm slipping on my clothes every morning.
365 days ago (give or take):
I had lost my mother's love forever. I walked back to my bedroom, opened my closet door, emptied all the toys out of my toy box, shut the closet door, climbed in the box, and shut the lid.
I wrote this for my friend Jenny. She constantly asks me to tell her this story, for some reason she can't get enough of it. All I can say about this entry is God Bless my poor, long suffering mother.