I've been feeling pretty good about myself lately. I got a new job*, I am getting in shape, I got a new purse, I finally got a cute haircut; anyway, I think I might have been getting a little too big for my britches because I really got taken down a peg or two today. First of all, it is hotter than hell. I did not want to cook so I offered to go get KFC for the family. That also made me feel like hot stuff because I never let my family eat that shit, so they were pretty excited.
So I'm driving along with my arm out the window, letting the wind blow through my new cute haircut, and something hit my arm. No biggy. It happens. I'm breezy. I don't care. So I continued to wave my arm in the air, singing along with the radio, and feeling like I'm a lady with her shit together. Then I noticed something moving around by my legs. It was a bee. At least I think it was a bee. It was big and flying, but to be honest, I was freaking out so badly I couldn't exactly make out what kind of bug it was. That was obviously what hit my arm and then ricocheted into the car and was stunned for a few seconds. Because it was stunned, it was flying slowly and bumping into my legs. Needless to say I started screaming and kicking, which isn't the best thing to be doing when you're driving 60 miles per hour on a busy highway. So, being the safety conscious full-grow-lady-with-her-shit-together that I am, I pulled over, jumped out of the car and screamed and writhed around like an idiot for all the people also driving on the busy highway to see. Even while I was doing it, I thought to myself, "Why am I doing this? I'm making a fool of myself. It's just a stupid bee. Calm down and get back in the car. The bee is gone." So I checked the car and couldn't spot the bee.
I got back in and got back on the road and admonished myself for acting like such a spaz. I'm a full grown lady with her shit together. I can't act like that. I decided to just keep my arm in the car. To stop living so wild and crazy, on the edge; to reduce some risk. Just when I was sure I was away from any other drivers or any homeowners that saw me acting like such a moron, I saw the bee again. It was flying around by my waist, slow and menacing. Why do they do that? It's so scary. Just when I thought I would have to go through the entire, embarrassing, exhausting pull-over-and-spaz-out routine again, the bee flew out the open window. Whew.
After I got the KFC, I decided to stop and get some beer too because I deserve it. 1) because I'm a lady with her shit together, and 2) because that ordeal I endured with the bee made me crave something to soften what seem to be some pretty sharp edges. I got the food out to the appreciation and delight of my family, and then I opened a beer and promptly spilled half of it in the open silverware drawer, managing to hit every single utensil.
Now, two-hours later, after sweating over cleaning the millions of utensils that fit into a seemingly small drawer, I'm a full-grown lady with her shit together with a sparkly clean silverware drawer.
Now THAT's impressive.
*story to follow
So I'm driving along with my arm out the window, letting the wind blow through my new cute haircut, and something hit my arm. No biggy. It happens. I'm breezy. I don't care. So I continued to wave my arm in the air, singing along with the radio, and feeling like I'm a lady with her shit together. Then I noticed something moving around by my legs. It was a bee. At least I think it was a bee. It was big and flying, but to be honest, I was freaking out so badly I couldn't exactly make out what kind of bug it was. That was obviously what hit my arm and then ricocheted into the car and was stunned for a few seconds. Because it was stunned, it was flying slowly and bumping into my legs. Needless to say I started screaming and kicking, which isn't the best thing to be doing when you're driving 60 miles per hour on a busy highway. So, being the safety conscious full-grow-lady-with-her-shit-together that I am, I pulled over, jumped out of the car and screamed and writhed around like an idiot for all the people also driving on the busy highway to see. Even while I was doing it, I thought to myself, "Why am I doing this? I'm making a fool of myself. It's just a stupid bee. Calm down and get back in the car. The bee is gone." So I checked the car and couldn't spot the bee.
I got back in and got back on the road and admonished myself for acting like such a spaz. I'm a full grown lady with her shit together. I can't act like that. I decided to just keep my arm in the car. To stop living so wild and crazy, on the edge; to reduce some risk. Just when I was sure I was away from any other drivers or any homeowners that saw me acting like such a moron, I saw the bee again. It was flying around by my waist, slow and menacing. Why do they do that? It's so scary. Just when I thought I would have to go through the entire, embarrassing, exhausting pull-over-and-spaz-out routine again, the bee flew out the open window. Whew.
After I got the KFC, I decided to stop and get some beer too because I deserve it. 1) because I'm a lady with her shit together, and 2) because that ordeal I endured with the bee made me crave something to soften what seem to be some pretty sharp edges. I got the food out to the appreciation and delight of my family, and then I opened a beer and promptly spilled half of it in the open silverware drawer, managing to hit every single utensil.
Now, two-hours later, after sweating over cleaning the millions of utensils that fit into a seemingly small drawer, I'm a full-grown lady with her shit together with a sparkly clean silverware drawer.
Now THAT's impressive.
*story to follow
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