Jefferson's parents went out of town yesterday and asked us to spend the night and make sure all the kids got to school okay ("all the kids" more like "the two kids" haha). We brought a change of clothes and Kimber, thinking this would be fun.
It was Jefferson's first day of classes yesterday, not to mention a full day of work on top of that, so needless to say, he was ready for a nice long sleep. Somehow Kimber got it into her head that eleven o'clock at night was a good time to be hyper and noisy and want to play (and this was even after she was a butt the whole time I was trying to give her a walk on her leash. That little girl is so stubborn. She's more than happy to follow you around, but as soon as you snap a leash on her, she drags her feet and whines the whole way.).
By midnight, Jefferson decided maybe it would be a good idea to put her in her kennel. Emphasis on the maybe. She whined and scratched, whimpered and pawed, incessantly: up at 2, 2:30, 3:00, 4:00 am, all spent disciplining, trying to give the poor puppy a crash course in kennel training. She's stoopid sometimes...this was one of those times.
Well, when the alarm went off at 6 am, it woke up Kimber. She started to whimper, so I took a turn and ran her upstairs and outside to go potty.
Let me preface this next part by saying, I have never been stung by a bee in my entire lifetime. I remember once, in the fifth grade, I was on the monkey-bars during recess, hanging upside-down, and a bee flew up my shirt. I didn't so much as breathe for the next however long it was until my friends gave me the all clear. (Thinking retrospectively, it was my friends who told me there was a bee up my shirt in the first place...hmmmm....well, it just goes to show you how seriously I take my bees!)
As I turned around to go up the porch steps and back inside, I felt a prick on the bottom of my foot. The intial prick wasn't too bad, felt sort of like a splinter (have I ever mentioned my ridiculous fear of splinters? The last splinter I had, I was 16, and my dad had to sit on me while my mom extracted the nasty thing. I screamed the whole time. Yeah....no pain tolerance whatsoever.) Then the burning started. It felt like someone was holding a match to the bottom of my foot, times ten.
It also didn't help that I glanced down to see what I'd stepped on and in my contact-less and glesses-less state, saw a blurry black bug-looking thing crawling away. Spider? Scorpion? I had no idea. I hopped up the stairs back into the house and started yelling for Jefferson. At this point I was bawling (I honestly had no idea that bee stings hurt so much! That is until today.)
Oh, and did I forget to mention that Jefferson's Grandpa Harvey is a beekeeper? Jefferson used to work summers at his Grandpa's place in Montana, so he is very well versed in the art of aiding a bee stung individual.
First he ran outside to see what I had stepped on (I guess "big black blurry bug-looking thingy" wan't discriptive enough. Go figure.) Turns out it was a bee. He then showed me the correct way to extricate a stinger. Did you know, if you pull out a stinger it actually releases more of the venom, which is what makes it burn and swell, into your system? The proper way to get out a stinger is to scratch at it. Suprisingly, scrathcning at a fresh bee sting didn't hurt as bad as it sounded. Then he sopped a paper towel in vinegar and had me dot it on my foot.
After all that, you'd better bet I was awake! I'm just suprised I didn't wake up the hole house with all of my hollering!
Okay okay, I swear I read all your entries. For real. I once stepped on a bee when I was little; I remember crying a lot. That's pretty impressive that you haven't been stung until now though!
ReplyDeleteAlso, random question... I know you did modeling for Scentsationals a while back, but did they by chance use your face for billboards? I was driving and I swear I saw you on a billboard. But it was hard to tell. I MUST KNOW!