Sometimes I think to myself “This is undoubtedly the weirdest day of my life.”
Did I ever tell you guys about the rock bed that my husband and I were digging up so that we could plant flowers? And did I tell you that rather than hauling away the rock and dirt to bring in new soil, he thought it best to strain the billions of rocks from the already existing soil with a homemade strainer?
We planted flowers on Saturday. After weeks of straining rocks. And they are so beautiful, it might have even been worth it.
But Saturday evening, while my other half was outside finishing up the task and I was putting the little ones to bed, I decided to open the door right quick to ask him a question. And a bee flew right into my face.
I think I’ve mentioned my fear of bugs once or twice, no?
So here I am, running around the house, screaming screams unlike anything the world has ever heard, thinking they would warrant my husby’s immediate arrival to my defense. Instead, he slowly and casually walks in all “What is wrong with you?”
Clearly, he is more than accustomed to my over-dramatic tendencies.
But I’m not kidding, you guys, this bee was following me around the house. It was in my hair, it was in my face, and I can still hear that wretched buzzing.
Don’t fret though, because he was eventually my knight in dirty garden gloves shining armor. After he was done making fun of me, he killed that sucker with brute force. And when I regained my composure, I asked “What the heck, can they sense fear or something? That thing was totally following me around!”
He laughed and said “I have no idea, but I bet that they can sense that pollen.”
And then he pointed to my shirt.
The shirt that had pollen all over my lady lumps.
Fun fact: Bee or no bee, I ran errands in that shirt. All day. Completely unaware.
Bringin’ sexy back.