It’s yellowjacket season

I got stung four times by a yellowjacket on Wednesday morning. The thing got me on the arm, then proceeded to fly into the sleeve opening of my shirt to then sting me in two other places on my side. And one final sting on my hand as I reached in to the grab the bastard, throw it on the ground and stomp on it.

I’m sure it made for an entertaining sight, with my flailing around and engaging in a loud, frantic soliloquy in florid NC-17 language. In the 48 hours since, I’ve been treated to a wandering backache, a blocked sinus, and edema in my feet and lower legs.

Have I mentioned before how much I hate summer in New York? No yellowjackets in winter; just attack dogs.