Avoid the apiary

As you probably could’ve predicted, I’ve fallen behind on my weekly post pledge. For shame. I realized this evening I was behind, and meant to write something. But I just can’t. Don’t worry, I have a pretty amusing excuse. I was stung by a bee this morning on the index finger of my left hand, and as such said finger is now approximately 1.5 times it’s original size. I’ll have you know that this is the second time I’ve been stung in the last week; ’tis the season, else I’m just quite unlucky or smell floral or am unusually inclined to invade bee habitats. First it was the back of my leg, now the cursed  finger.  Essentially, this is not fun for me nor for the bees. I swell up and they apparently die afterwards. I mean no harm to you, bees. Now please, stop targeting me; that finger can’t take much more abuse.

Long story short: I am dutifully relaying all of this sorry information to you with out the use of my swollen, itching (except in the tip, yay damaged nerve endings!), cursed left index finger. It’s about as far as I feel like going for now.

So for now, a cheerful, bee-less photo of spring blossoms. A tôt!

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