Sunday, November 1, 2015
Not in the sense that Elvis meant with his song by the same name, but as David and I were cleaning the furnace yesterday this little monster "swooped down" and stung me on the ear, whereupon I brushed him off my face and directly down into my shirt, so he had the chance to sting twice more on the chest and one on the arm for good measure before I could get my shirt off. I crushed him just a little and have watched him slowly die over the past 24 hours. I feel no sorrow for him (maybe just a little as he was trapped inside my shirt, but the ear? Not called for.