Monday, March 19, 2012

Bees. Bees....

Well, one bee, specifically.  I just walked down to the library to pick up a book, then came back to the office.  I sit down, cross my legs, and prepare to work.  That's when I notice, due to my knee now being closer than usual to my head, that I picked up a passenger while outside: there is now a bee crawling slowly up my leg.  I get up, very, very carefully.  The bee seems undisturbed.  Encouraged, I leave my office and start down the hallway to the outdoors.  It had never seemed quite so long.  I imagine I presented an interesting picture for passerbys, as I was trying very, very hard to move quickly, yet do so with the minimal amount of leg movement.  I assume this is how the Monty Python "Ministry of Silly Walks" sketch came into being.

I got outside, and took inventory.  One me, check.  And one bee, check.  The latter item, however, had shifted considerably.  While I was busy fleeing, the bee had been occupied with moving to a more advantageous part on Mount PoC.  It had moved upward from my knee, to behind my thigh, and was now taking up position directly on my left buttock.  I had a bee on my ass.  You can imagine the relative sangfroid I employed in learning this fact.  And if I looked ridiculous before when I was walking, you can also imagine the figure I cut when trying to dislodge a bee from my butt without agitating it or putting my naked hands anywhere near the region in question.  I'm guessing it looked something between inventing a poorly thought out dance move, and having a seizure.

The bee eventually decided that there was, in fact, no pollen in my posterior, and flew away.  I breathed a sigh of relief, and offered a silent prayer to any deities with apiarist inclinations that may be in the vicinity.  I trudged back to the office.  It was a pointless gesture; there was clearly no way I was going to do any work today.  I was far too traumatized.

Later Days.

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