Surprise sting

I didn't get much of a chance to do anything in the way of writing over the weekend. I enjoyed an afternoon at a park with my husband and son on Saturday, and we met friends for milkshakes in the evening. Yesterday we bought a dresser and shelf for my son's room. A lot of rearranging needed to be done. Our house is little. I finally removed my last bookshelf from his room. It was a little shelf consisting of mostly Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, and Bill Bryson books. I forgot I had so many Pratchett books, and I still don't have them all. I need a bigger house for more wall space for bookshelves.

I was stung by a gigantic wasp while trimming a bush outside. Okay, gigantic in my head is an inch. When I was growing up, I don't remember seeing that many wasps. Not as many as I see these days, and the ones I remember were small. I remember many more honeybees and bumblebees. A honeybee sting is nothing compared to a wasp viciously attacking you. It came out of nowhere. It felt like a hot needle being jabbed into the back of my hand. I screamed like a girl. Yes, I am a girl, but I'm not a screamer. My husband ran over and slayed the monster for me. My knight in a geek t-shirt and khaki shorts. My hand felt as though it were on fire for about an hour. It hurt for the rest of the night. Now it's swollen up twice its size and it's itchy. Incredibly itchy.

One insect did this to me. One sting by one wasp. I couldn't imagine if I had come across a nest. I'm not over-dramatic at all. From what I've read on the net, this is a normal reaction. Dang wasp.

Now I have it in my head to write a short story about deadly insects.