I took a walk after work today. The collie I've had for years hates hot weather. Maybe the mink coat he wears makes him lethargic when it gets hotter than Lucifer in latex. But Hook, the new kid in town was excited.
We walked for about 30 minutes and on the last leg of the walk, I stopped by the old truck at the barn. It belonged to Jilda's dad and was built when Bill Clinton was in the Whitehouse, but it's been sitting behind our barn for many years.
Hook ran up to the door of the old truck and sniffed. I figured a chicken snake had probably crawled inside so I opened the door to have a look inside. There was a snake skin under the seat, but I didn't see a live snake.
Before I could close the door, I felt a burning pain on my ankle and then several more around my knee.
WASPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I screamed along with an interesting combination of profanity unheard of in these parts. I also did this little dance that would have gone viral on social media had someone had the good fortune to film it.
Slamming the door, I had to pull Hook away by the collar because he wanted some level of revenge for their treatment of me. I limped a little as we finished our walk.
Icing down the knee, it immediately felt better so I stepped onto the front porch to wait for Jilda who was on her way home.
The sun was lazing on the horizon spotlighting the impatiens hanging in a basket by the birdbath. I snapped a blog photo.
As I surveyed the red spots on my ankle where I'd been stung, a weird thought passed through my brain. For some reason, I remembered the old song, sometimes you feel like dancing, and I had to smile.