We’re in Texas.

A woman asks how I’m doing.

I reply, “I’m well; how are you?”

For a moment, she’s stunned. Then she curls her lip to bare her teeth, and–once I register her expression–she snarls, “I’m good.”

Seriously. An adult human gave me a warning display because I spoke grammatically. Thank goodness she didn’t have quills or neck frills or anal scent glands!

I hate to victim-blame, Texas, but maybe sometimes you make it just a little too easy to “mess with” you…?

A yellowjacket stung me.

It hurt–but it punctured the skin at an odd angle and got stuck in my leg, so instead of swatting it, I laughed at it, and let it live with the shame.

For all I know, it’s still there. It’s hard to say. I’m wearing pants right now.