Under ATTACK!

 

Up until yesterday, it had been decades since I had been maimed by an animal.

The year was 1993. I was a university student studying at the Bathurst Campus of Charles Sturt University. And when I say STUDYING, I mainly drank beer and ate hot chips and hooked up with unattractive specimens, for there were only a handful of decent lads who were not enamoured by a young lady who had put on fifteen kilos in a year due to said beers and hot chips.

Anyway, it was a freezing cold morning when I got into my car to head up to uni for my beer and chips. I was just about to turn off Browning Street onto Research Station Drive when all of a sudden, a very small yet very angry wasp flew straight into my cleavage. Once there, it demonstrated its anger by going to town on my boobs. I shrilled like a banshee and drove the car straight into a bush. I jumped from the vehicle and did the dance of a thousand wasp stings. I stripped off my coat, my jumper, my shirt, my thermals and got straight down to my bra. Oh what I sight I must have been, swatting away at my boobs while other students went passed, laughing and pointing. Assholes. NO PASHES FOR ANY OF YOU! Oh, except for maybe you. You look particularly hideous and I have no self-esteem, so lets reserve ourselves for each other at the next bar night, ok?

Which brings me to yesterday.

If you live in Sydney you would be well aware of the hideous weather conditions we have been experiencing. Yesterday, I think it was about 96% humidity, and considering I should know better because #lifeexperiences, I put on my new maxi-skirt before heading out for the day to run revolting back to school errands. After a while, the dreaded chafe kicked in. I winced through some discomfort and I made some bad lifestyle food choices. Arriving home, dripping in sweat and red-faced, I dumped all the shopping on the kitchen floor, announced to the team to put it all away, for I was off to lay on the bed in the air-conditioning to make my recovery.

It was there that the assault took place.

I flicked on Netflix to watch the final episode of the series Casketeers, which is very good and I can recommend it, but more about that later in the week. I started to cool down when all of a sudden someone stabbed me in the back of the thigh with a blazing hot sword! I sprung up like Florence Griffith Joyner and began to scream, all the while tugging my skirt off. The pain grew more intense, like there were flames involved or something. I raced into the kitchen to find Mr. Woog chopping up veggies while listening to classical music.

“SOMETHING HAS BITTEN ME CAN YOU SEE ANYTHING FUCK IT HURTS” accompanied by a series of wails that had not left my lips since my ill-fated attempt at having a natural birth back in 2004.

Mr. Woog, who is usually one for great hysterical drama and overreacting, was uncharacteristically unflappable. I put this down to the fact that he must have been practicing mindfulness while chopping the veggies. Anyway he wandered over to my well presented ass in the air, gave it a quick glance before declaring “Yep, something has bitten you….”

Fucking thanks Einstein.

It had bitten me right alongside the chafe and I was very unhappy to say the least.

It throbbed and got very hot.

“Maybe it was a spider?” He offered up.

Whatever it was, my love of all creatures great and small, just got a little smaller. Determined for my attacker to meet its maker, I bravely limped back into the bedroom where I found NOTHING! I scoured the doona, turned that dreadful heat seeking skirt inside out and yet there was nothing. No trace of the invisible ninja spider, wasp, ant or whatever decided my juicy thigh was too tempting not to sting. It was very un-nerving, so I stripped the bed and through it all into a hot wash, just for good measure.

My own bed, my safe space for comfort and slumber and the occasional jiggy jig. WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?

When is the last time you got stung by something?

This blog post is dedicated to Horatio’s best mate Hamez, who didn’t use his thinking brain when he picked up a blue-bottle last week at the beach, chased Horatio with it only to have the tentacles fly back due to inertia only to wrap around his arm.