On the dangers of wide-leg jeans

On Saturday evening, I put on a rather fetching pair of dark, trouser-style jeans. Wide-leg jeans give a wonderful optical allusion of height, something this 5'2 lady will take in all five colors, please. They also have a wide-leg opening, which will become relevant in a moment. I was gathering together my purse, putting the house on doggie lockdown, etc. when I went to do a final once-over in the bathroom mirror. As I entered the bathroom, I heard a faint buzzing. I closed the door and it grew louder. It was not any of my phones buzzing, nor was it the high-pitched whine of a mosquito.

It was big, and

it

was

in

my

pants.

Now, most people, upon realizing there is some kind of stinging creature in one's pants, will calming remove said pants lest one anger said creature.

I'm not most people.

Particularly when there is something sharp flying around areas that really don't need to come into contact with sharp flying creatures.

I ran out of my bathroom into my bedroom, and, in front of wide-open windows that face the street, ripped off my pants in a shriek-punctuated jig and sent them flying into the corner. Still pantsless, still in full view of whoever had the misfortune to witness a crazy, half-nekkid lady dancing around her house, I ascertained the damage: a big, fat, raised knot on my leg and a buzz still coming from inside my jeans. I crept closer, mop in one hand, can of hairspray in the other. (You know, to immobilize anything).

Out crept the biggest bee I have ever seen. It was long and fat and mean and, boy, was it angry! I ran for a heavy glass, and carefully placed it over the bee. I had a friend picking me up in a few moments, and I really needed her to see and dispose of the beast. Not being Nature Girl, I leave these matters to the less-squeamish folks I am so fortunate to have in my life. Plus, I didn't want to appear the sissy: I was still shaking and I knew that was no ordinary bee.

I'm still not sure it was a bee, in fact. Strong probability this thing was mammalian.


Friend was roundly impressed by the sheer size of whatever it was, in addition to the damage it inflicted on my poor leg: two inch-high bites ringed by a c-shaped bruise. Shaking herself, she carefully released it on the front lawn and high-tailed it back to the house as fast as she could.

And then she told me to put on some pants.

This morning, the sweet widow across the street introduced herself. (I'm new to the neighborhood). Trying hard not to giggle, she mentioned that she had seen some kind of what she politely termed "commotion" in my bedroom and wanted to be sure everything was well.

Clearly, I am making a fantastic impression here.