On Monday I finished the giant editing job I've been working on since June, and I decided to devote each day of the rest of the week to a theme, which has worked well for me in the past.
- Tuesday: Religious education! (I now co-chair this church committee.) I finally read every e-mail that Kind Tina, my co-chair, sent me throughout the spring — and won't she be pleased, I now have a 24-item list of things to discuss with her. I also went through piles of old RE documents, read several RE handbooks written by other churches, etc. etc., it was a huge amount of work, and it took all day. But now it's done! For now.
- Wednesday: Piles and lists! I dealt with all the crap that had piled up on my work desk, re-affixed the light-blocking panels on my kitchen porch door, finished the first draft of an article for the Betsy-Tacy Society Newsletter, and did a bunch of other things that I've been carrying over from week to week on my calendar. Success! Accomplishment!
- Thursday: Beauty! I planned to work in my garden until I couldn't stand it any more (it's a jungle out there) and then self-beautify — fake-tan my legs, paint my nails, etc.
And then shrieked, "Son of a BITCH!" and flung off my gardening gloves, where I could clearly see some sort of black stinging insect clinging to one of the fingers.
I ran inside the house to pour cold water on my sting, then I Googled "how to treat bite from stinging insect." Ice was suggested, which I promptly applied. The stung area felt better within a minute, so I headed back outside, this time armed with my electric flyswatter, and I zapped the insect (which was still on my glove, crawling around like an idiot with a death wish).
Well, hmm. Perhaps I should not use the word "idiot" lightly, given what happened next.
Assuming this was an isolated incident with a now dead stinging insect, I picked up the clippers and resumed my grooming.
"MotherF***ER!!!!" I then shrieked, and raced back inside for more ice.
Dear Readers, how I would love to tell you that I learned my lesson, left the tree alone, and stopped shrieking obscenities up and down the length of my quiet residential neighborhood.
But no. No.
I repeated this entire scenario three more times, for a total of five stings. Well, to be fair, I got stung twice in the same clipping attempt, so really only two more times. Four pruning attempts, five stings. But then I gave up.
My good friend Google told me that I had a nest of bald-faced hornets living in my willow tree. Bald-faced hornets are nasty bastards that get particularly pissed off when they believe their nest/queen is under attack. Which I guess my vicious pruning shears pretty clearly represented to them.
But Pest Control Guy Kyle came out first thing the next morning and removed a nest the size of a baseball from my death tree. He assured me that he would come again if I saw a single hornet, but that he has never had to make a repeat visit after removing a nest.
I spent the weekend cowering indoors and hiding from my death tree, but this is no way to live. Yesterday I cowboyed up, grabbed my pruning shears, and proceeded to Do Battle.
Today is the hottest it will be all week, and each day after this will be cooler. I have two big editing jobs coming, but I don't know when. Perhaps while I wait, I will give the days of this week themes, as I never got to "writing" and "fitness" (fitness morphed into gardening, and writing was going to be Friday's theme but I did something else instead).
No weight loss news whatsoever. I documented my food on FatSecret for several weeks, I stayed within my calorie limit every day, with a decent balance between carbs, protein, and fat, and I didn't lose an ounce. (FatSecret says that I should lose a pound a week at this calorie limit.) I have a doctor's appointment on August 3, and I know they will test my thyroid, which I'm beginning to wonder about.
But frankly, it's too hot to care about anything. I just rented two movies with "summer" in the title; I'm going to sit in front of my fan with an iced drink and enjoy the wacky highjinks of Mark Harmon and Jennifer Love Hewitt, because that's the best way to keep cool on a sultry afternoon, if you ask me.
—Lady C, gardening badass