The Sting

Mondays are my Fridays. So as I was closing the gate to the park yesterday evening, I had an extra bounce to my step. I usually pull up past the gate, hop out of my car, haul the heavy beams to the "closed" position, and lock the gate, all while my car is running (the whole process should take less than 60 seconds). Last night, as my right hand was pulling the keys out of the lock, a waspy-type critter buzzed up against my hand. I don't believe it had time to land before I felt excruciating pain shoot through my pointer finger. My original motion that started as a "shoe-go-away"movement quickly turned into a "get-off" fling, then massive flailing and brushing by my other hand (because the sting felt like something was still on it).

[deleted expletive].

I stood there, doubled over in pain, my left hand pressed against my right, throbbing hand.

[deleted expletive, deleted expletive, deeeleeeeeeeted expleeeeeeetive].

I have never been stung by a wasp or hornet or bee or any other insect from the order Hymenoptera. They must have worked a deal out with the insects of order Diptera to make sure I get my fair share of bites (did you like how I dropped my sciencey terms and did not use the word "bug," Biologist Friend in the OK state?). I am also prone to many different types of skin allergies. One of the first thoughts to my mind was "I wonder if I am allergic to stings?" Followed by "I wonder how I will know if I am allergic to stings?" Followed by "I wonder what I am supposed to do with an allergic reaction?" Followed by the mental image of me sitting in a waiting room in my uniform. Been there, done that, would like to not repeat the experience.

I decided the best thing would be do go ahead and start home and look up some home treatments (and tentatively look up signs of allergic reactions). Okay. Just need to grab my keys and get going.

MY KEYS!?!

In the process of flinging the little monster away, I flung my keys, too. I vaguely remembered hearing them hit... something. My mind was a little preoccupied during the moment of "The Sting." So, while holding my burning hand, I looked for my keys as nonchalantly as possible. It is amazing how a close examination of the pavement shows the similarities in color of a set of work keys. It is also amazing how years of looking at I Spy books had not prepared me for searching for my keys. At one point, I called a coworker to let her know I seriously needed to get rolling (for I could see my finger swelling and wanted to treat it as soon as I could). As I was about to announce defeat, I saw them dangling over a gutter drain cover. I had flung them over my head, about six feet behind me. I am also particularly grateful that they did not fall into the drain. Ew.

My finger is still slightly swollen and feels a little tingling. But it looks like I have survived the ordeal. I will live to see another day. And hopefully, never another sting.

Today is my Saturday. I am going to write today. It's on my "to-do" list. I have some draft posts I want to revise. I have some ideas I want to hash out. I also have a book review overdue. Chores are begging me, too. Maybe I can play up my hurt finger enough that my dishes will feel sorry for me and wash themselves.