So here I was thinking I was master of my domain and Empress of All Things Waspy.
Me and the wasps were hanging out all cool and peaceful. I’d even allow them to wander about all over my person without so much as blinking an eye.
AND THAT IS WHERE I WENT WRONG.
Today, while hand-writing a heartfelt message on a card, I failed to notice that Waspy (my generic name for any and all wasps that tramp all over me all the live-long day) had crawled onto my underarm.
And I have very interesting and creative handwriting.
But I would fail any and all handwriting form and musculature tests, as I cramp onto the pen and drag my forearm on the surface.
And that’s where things went wrong.
The wasp had attached itself underneath my arm (unbeknownst to bug-loving me).
I lowered my arm onto the table in order to write.
It pretty much registered an assassination attempt and retaliated with full and ferocious fury.
In other words, that baby planted itself into my flesh and unloaded a heaping helping of venom.
And it’s been about 12 hours now. And it still hurts like hell. And my right forearm is no less than twice the size of the left and the way my MacBook hits me is not super cool and…OWIE.
Bad wasp. Bad!!!