Where the bee sucks . . .

I can tell you exactly where the last bee with whom I got up close and personal sucked. My arm, right below the elbow. What’s more, I was simply standing on the sidewalk. I was not wearing bright colors or perfume, I was just standing there. And so yesterday, for the second time this summer, I was stretched out on an examining table, while the doctor dug around with a scalpel, extracting remnants of a sting. Again the question was, “Was it a bee, a yellow jacket or a wasp?” I phrased my answer as politely as I could. It also explains why my arm is swollen, red and throbbing and I am taking steroids and antibiotics in the hope I will look halfway normal before I get on the plane on Sunday.

So forget all that merrily, merrily business and find me some hydrocortisone.