Woe is me. If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. I know that's a song. My grandma and grandpa watched Hee Haw. Some days, it seems I just can't catch a break.
I stepped into the shower this morning to...DUH...shower, little knowing what fate had in store for me. We have a detached shower, a big 'un, a two-seater. I reached in and turned on the water. We have a single knob, marked HOT and COLD, but seeing as how Non-Union Plumber H installed it, the cold water comes out the HOT side and hot water comes out the COLD side. Don't worry, we have several matching sinks. You just can't be sure which ones, until you've splashed a mile in my shower shoes. But that's not a problem for me. I've lived here 11 years, and I know the drill.
I stepped over the little lip thingy that holds the track for the sliding shower doors. As usual, I turned my back to the shower head and closed my eyes. That's what I do. I let the water run through my hair and sometimes down my face if I misjudge my position while my eyes are closed. Funny how I close my eyes in case water runs down my face. I'm a regular O. Henry story all by myself!
So there I am, eyes closed, water spraying on my head, and I notice that I'm not quite turned all the way to the back of the shower, because my right foot is up against the little lip thingy that holds the track for the shower doors. That has never happened in 11 years. Of course I think nothing of it, except that I need to turn to get my whole head wet. That's when it happened.
There was no warning for the danger that was fast approaching. No flickering lights. No "REEE! REEE! REEE!" Psycho music. No life milestones passing before my eyes. Nothing. Then I felt it.
A sharp, pointy, burning pain shot through the side of my foot. The side of my right foot that was pressed up against that little lip thingy that holds the track for the shower doors. My first thought was Ouch! That hurts like a... My next thought was WTF? My next thought was Oh, no it didn't! Something just f---ing STUNG me!!! I moved my foot away from that little lip thingy that holds the track for the shower doors, and a freakin' stingered insect with a yellow stripey hind end was writhing around on the shower floor. Believe me, he wasn't hurtin' any more than I was. I wanted to say, "This hurts me more than it hurts you." But that would have been stupid, talking to an insect, and besides, I was more concerned with my throbbing side-foot area, and the fact that my dad always had to carry an Epi-Pen because of his deadly allergy to stings, and the other fact that I have only been stung by a bee once in my life, around the age of six, when walking barefoot through a clover patch, unless you count the occasional 'sweat bee' off and on through childhood, and nothing untoward had happened to me then.
What a way to check out. Naked and wet and nobody to hear my cries for help as the swollen throat of anaphylactic shock slowly murderized me.
But that didn't happen. Lucky for me the stinging venom allergy skipped a generation, and that critter stung the tough part of my foot along the outside edge, halfway between my pinky toe and my heel. But really. WHO gets stung by a bee in her own shower? Only Hillbilly Mom.
I totally blame Entomologist H. Who knows what he carries into this house on his clothes? Two nights ago, he got stung by something while sticking new numbers on the pole with our address sign out at the end of the driveway.
In other news, today at school, while cleaning out the big flat drawer of my desk, I found $23. Even Steven has reared his fair-haired head again.
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5 comments:
What a way to check out. Naked and wet and nobody to hear my cries for help as the swollen throat of anaphylactic shock slowly murderized me.
ROFL
God that sucks. I bet it ruined your relaxing shower.
I haven't been stung by anything (not counting gigantic fire ants) since childhood, but I used to get stung several times a year during the summer because I walked around outside barefoot all the time. You know, like a good little redneck.
Miss Ann,
I don't know how you do things down there in Mississippi, but up here in Missouri, the barefoot season runs from May 1 until September 1. That's what my mom always told us. Oh, and you have to wash your feet before bedtime.
Yup. My dad always said we could be barefoot once the month of May rolled around. I can remember asking my mom, "Is it May yet?" about once every other day in the early spring. I don't recall there being a set date for the shoes to go back on. You could probably stretch it out until October.
OMG. I would have FREAKED out. I think I would have started running around the house nekkid screaming like those dumb chicks in the psycho killer movies.
I love my bugs, but the stingers (hornets and wasps) FREAK me out. And to be INSIDE. In your own bathroom, nekkid and totally unsuspecting. I'd say that wasp was trying to MURDER you!
Miss Ann,
We couldn't stretch it that far. We're nearly in the Arctic Circle, you know.
Chick,
It must be part of a far-reaching conspiracy. The creepy-crawly world is out to get me.
I can't thank you enough for putting the image of me running around my house nekkidly screaming into the minds of my millions of readers. The Sandman had better add on a couple of truckloads tonight, what with the nightmares that will result.
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