’Tis the season . . . for wasps to come in the house from the fireplace. It’s a bad time for them and for us. More specifically, it’s a bad time for me.
I have a fear of stinging insects dating back to when, as a toddler on my grandparents’ driveway, I stepped on a bee with my bare foot and it stung me between my toes. I was holding my grandmother’s hand, and when I screamed, she swatted at the dazed bee buzzing around her leg and took me inside. There, she pulled the tiny stinger out with tweezers and dabbed the puncture with some concoction that included vinegar. (I believe that also was the day I developed a lifelong gag reflex to the smell of vinegar.)
Continue reading “Fighting Fear”