So life is back to normal...or at least as normal as my life ever gets.

It's almost October and that means it's time for the Battle of the Bees. Every year I do battle with bees, and it's a serious battle because I'm allergic to them. I carry one of those epi-pens I can use to stab myself in the leg if I get stung. I've never had to do it yet, and it would be fine with me if I never do it at all. Bees are also my single only phobia. I'm a lot better than I used to be, but the sound of them just drives me crazy and sort of out of my rational mind....not that that's a long drive, by any means.

The way I understand it, bees are so cranky this time of year because....

they know they're going to die. Instead of saying good-bye to other bees, getting their affairs in order, maybe taking that long dreamed of trip overseas like I would do, they hang around people and look for an excuse to sting them. Actually, this is an oversimplification. The point is, there's not enough food for them, so they're desperate for anything sweet. This is why they hang around trash cans, and my car, which is red so they must think it's got anthocynin in it ( that's what turns tomatoes red, indicating they're ripe). Or of course, they could be smelling ( experiencing? do bees really smell anything?) Dreamlife, my perfume, but not hairspray, since I don't wear any. As you can tell, my knowlege about their life cycle is sketchy at best. All I know is that even though it seems to me this time of year like bees are stalking me personally, they are really not.

But, still, we have scenes like yesterdays. Yesterday, I was repping tile. I had a ton of samples to take in. I remember why I sell Avon. Avon isn't HEAVY. Anyway, while I was struggling to get these tile samples out of my car, a bee started dive bombing me. I was wearing a skirt and one of those ponchos that have come out this fall. I love ponchos. I had one when I was a little kid. But it was a lot easier to wear something that fashion forward, or out of fashion when you're in elementary school. Because yesterday, I really did look like Some Winged Creature as I flapped around the parking lot, alternately running away from the bee and trying to hit it with the fringes of my poncho.

Then I looked in the door of the place I was going to call on. The whole sales staff had gathered by the front door to watch this display - and I'm sure that I looked like all three stooges all by myself. They were laughing their heads off. But you know me.... I went in there anyway, with my poncho on backwards and my hair all screwed up coming out of its bun from the chase. "Never, never, never give up" said Winston Churchill. But I don't think he was allergic to bees.

Anyway, I came out much worse in the battle with the bees at my own home. This was on Monday, before we had The Hub's test results. I was so wigged out that I was dead heading marigolds in the front yard not even noticing that there was a swarm of yellow jackets ( to which I am most allergic) in the yew bush in front of the house. The Hub came out to talk to my father, who had stopped by and cautioned me away from it. Dad came back with some bee spray, which I attempted to apply to the bush after the sun had gone down.

I have no idea if it did anything to the bees, but Ortho Hornet and Wasp Killer will drop Some Winged Creatures in about 60 seconds. This is what happened. I took the bottle out and read the directions carefully. It's set up so that you would have a hard time accidentally spraying yourself in the face with it, and that's a good thing. I made sure I had the canister facing the right way. I stood about 15 feet away from the bush. I shook the canister and made sure that the wind was not blowing towards me. The wind wasn't blowing at all.

But don't you know, the very second I depressed the button on the spray can a strong breeze came up and blew almost all of it right back on me! And this was the foaming kind, that sticks.

Dropping the half empty canister I put my hand over my nose and mouth. I was already quite dizzy. My lungs felt like somebody tossed a flame thrower down my trachea. Hacking, coughing, and making a sound like a car that's trying to start, I staggered into the house, whipping off my shirt as I went. The astonished Hub, just out of the hospital, looked at me in disbelief. I threw the contaminated shirt down the stairs to the basement, scaring the hell out of the cat, ran into the bathroom, took my rescue inhaler and lept into the shower with my pants on. I'm pretty sure that's not any kind of a certified decontamination proceedure, but it seemed to work for me. Finally, I got my pants off and sat down on the edge of the tub with water from the shower hitting me. I had only one prayer "Please, dear Lord, don't let me have to go to the emergency room. Those people would never believe i did anything this stupid and we can't afford it."

The Hub was standing outside the door alternately asking if I was all right and why had I decided to spray the bees myself anyway? But my brain was not working right before we got those test results, and then my lungs weren't working right either.

So, now, the past 2 nights I've had to sleep sitting up on the sofa, since my lungs ache if I lie down. I felt better today, but still had trouble pushing the market basket with Mrs. C.B.'s grocery order in it. I think it's another night on the sofa for me.

It's Bees 1
Tea 1
But it's early in the game yet...I'll keep you posted on the score.

Coming up next, Devil-cat's bedlah! I promise!