So, yesterday I woke up at 4:30, as usual, to start my day at the computer. After gathering up my coffee I made my way to the basement, opened the document I’m working on, when I heard a buzzing noise. At first, I thought the noise was in my head–what with how muddled it is upon waking. Then, I thought the noise came from some kind of service truck outside. Wrong on both counts. I looked up from over the rim of my coffee mug and saw a large, angry wasp searching for a way out of my basement.
I f–king hate wasps. I really do. And at 4:30, my ire is drawn even more immutably on the subject.
I reached for a print out of the chapter I completed the day before, ready to smash the bugger from the sky. Well, the bugger dove for my eyes. I jerked my fisted hand in a warding off motion, jerked the fist right into my nose.
The pain was so excruciating, I nearly cried. When my vision cleared, blood was dripping into my lap, and the f–king wasp was exultant, buzzing about a nearby window in dance of victory.
Once the pain subsided, I felt like the narrator from Fight Club, punching himself bloody. When I imagined that scene, I couldn’t help laughing. When I did, pain shot through my nose, fresh blood trickled down my chin. What a way to start the day.