Just when you're think you're pretty cool and mature, along comes something that puts your cool in the crapper.
I was helping Marty lay some (really a whole bunch) of weed block. As I was tucking the fabric underneath a hosta, something bit me on the forearm. Ouch! (It still hurts and it's red and swollen). OK, fine, I got bitten by something gross. (Hate bugs.) about ten minutes later there was this loud buzzing about my head. I could see it (sort of) out of the corner of my eye. It looked like a B52 bomber and it was not going to leave me alone. Marty's hollering at me to stand still then run, then stand still. I'm confused and scared and this big buzzer is in my HAIR and in my glasses, which got jettisoned. All the time I am screaming at the top of my lungs. Marty is yelling at me to calm down and go in the house. "It'll go IN there with me; are you crazy?" I'm screaming like a demented banshee and doing my best St. Vitus Dance intermingled with being frozen in terror.
Needless to say, he finally got my panicked rear end in the house. It was NOT my finest hour by any stretch of the imagination.
I suppose the upside is it's given the neighbors something to talk about because you could probably hear my well-trained vocal chords on Lake Erie. Nice to know in a real pinch, I got the lung power!