This wasp stung me.*
In a perfect metaphor for my psychological make-up, I immediately started excusing it. I disturbed it. It was startled. Blah-blah-blah.
You know what? Making excuses for the wasp didn’t make the sting stop hurting.
Lavendar oil, however, was quite effective. Also, R hit the wasp’s dead body with a hammer. That helped, too.
*Possibly I’m condemning the wasp unfairly. I didn’t actually see what stung me. I’m just going by the fact that I started hurting, dramatically jumped and dropped the palm frond I was carrying, and then the wasp was in the pool when it hadn’t been a few moments earlier. Also, you know, it hurt. A lot. And this little note really adds to my metaphor, doesn’t it?
Judy, Judy, Judy said:
lol – the only time a wasp stung me, I accidentally put my hand down on it and it stung my palm. Hurt like everything!
Sarah Wynde said:
Yeah, it was a surprisingly intense pain! Stings are no fun, especially when they’re so out of the blue. Although I guess they always are a shock — no one ever expects a bug bite!