I worked in the garden on Thursday, harvesting some green beans (so good) and weeding and such–barefoot and all that and although no stinging occurred, I did notice a bee checking me out. Then on Friday, I got stung by some kind of obnoxious bee (perhaps the same bee?) — on my leg. I was just sitting out in the back yard reading and minding my own business. OUCH! It swelled up (not the bee; I don’t know what happened to the bee, and, frankly, I don’t care) and I worried, of course, that death was imminent, which it was not. It hurt for the day and now it just itches, so I think I will pull through. I watched three movies that I got from the library while I let it all heal — felt like a baby just sitting around all day being unproductive (could be relaxing is being productive in some way), but it was so hot and humid that I noticed my hyper-active husband mostly just sat around, too, and even watched one movie with me, so….there’s that.
The last time I got a bee sting was about 40 years ago at Western Michigan University, innocently walking to class (me, not the bee), so if this is a pattern, I will be stung again when I am over a hundred years old; I like those odds.
Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. – Confucius