Day 6 of January Blog a Day and I haven’t embarrassed myself yet. Whew. Except today’s topic is embarrassment. Yesterday I mentioned how my fear of wasps leads into today’s post but before I get there I need to give you a little background into my life.
Before Sweetey Petey came along The Husband and I typically took two vacations per year.
The first was always a week long summer motorcycle trip to destinations as varied as The Ozarks in Arkansas all the way to Charleston, South Carolina. Not in the same trip of course. I doubt my rear end could have survived that much seat time in one week.
The second was always a cooler weather trip to a cabin in the woods for some natural wonders
and of course the annual hot chocolate from my favorite small town cafe.
Gotta have the hot chocolate.
Oh and s’mores, but that goes without saying when you vacation at a cabin in the woods.
We have stayed at different cabins within the same area, but have also gravitated towards a few of the same year after year.
Take this one, for example.
Very secluded for maximum detox from the daily grind.
Cozy interior for, well, coziness.
Hot tub for ultimate relaxation (we have one of those now so this is probably less important these days).
Deer feeding grounds visible from aforementioned hot tub to soak in the wildlife. (I saw nine deer in our yard less than a week ago so this wouldn’t be so important these days either.)
Not embarrassing at all.
Turns out this particular cabin had developed a small wasp problem since our visit the previous year. A problem as in they were living in the walls. This was not visibly evident till the last morning of our visit in 2009 when a considerate me decided not to flip on the bathroom lights at 5:30 a.m. so as not to disturb the sleeping Husband in our cozy little one room abode.
This is where the embarrassing part comes in.
Can you see where this is headed or are you going to make me spell it out?
Sigh. Fine. I’ll spell it out.
Where were we? Oh yes, wasps in wall, lights off, considerate wife who had to pee.
Seriously, you are going to make me type it out for all of internet eternity?
FINE! I’ll just spit it out like ripping off a bandaid, which incidentally would hurt waaaaaay less than what actually happened.
So there was a wasp chillaxin on the toilet seat and considerate me sat on him and he stung me and I screamed and woke The Husband up anyway. While being stung by a wasp is not embarrassing, getting stung as close to your rear end without being on your rear end, is. The Husband clearly had to investigate and assess (pun intended) the damage. There was really no modest way to do that.
Worse than that was the long car ride home three hours later sitting on an ice pack in my pajamas.
Worse than that was the funny walk I had no choice but to adopt the next day when I was back at work in heels and dress pants that chafed in all the wrong places.
Worse than that was sitting at my desk for hours at a time, pretty much on my side trying desperately not to move.
The chafing, people, the chafing.
Worse than that was the heart attack I almost had the very next day when I walked into our bathroom at home and found yet another wasp on the seat.
What are the odds of that? After I picked myself up out of the corner I had instinctively hid in, I cautiously approached my nemesis and determined The Husband had helped the odds a bit.
Go ahead. Laugh. Everybody else did.
The only bright side to this story is that my ass knocked that wasp into the commode and I flushed him. I flushed him good. The first wasp, not the second. The second I keep in my jewelery box as a daily reminder to always always ALWAYS turn the light on when I enter the bathroom.
From as close to my rear end without being on my rear end to your ears.
To catch up on my January Blog a Day posts:
Tomorrow is SHOES! Who doesn’t like shoes?
Question of the Day: Did you laugh? Be honest. It’s okay if you did.