There was a wasp in the entryway at work the other day. For those of you in the know of where I live, you will know what an improbability that was, given the major snowstorm the day before and the bitterly cold temperatures that have stayed in the days following (side note: Spring, please come back, we like you, we miss you!). I don’t know that it was long for the world as it was, it was crawling along the floor and likely very cold and hungry. I tried my best to live and let live, and that worked for about a nanosecond. Then, the anything-with-a-bite-or-a-stinger-panicky-girl inside me took over and I had to rat it out lest it turn around, crawl the equivalent of several miles all the way into my office, up my leg and then summon the urge to sting me. I feel a bit bad, but maybe I put it out of its misery?
Things are getting interesting-er and interesting-er (to paraphrase a famous piece of fiction) over here and I am looking forward to sharing very, very happy news and the story of its coming about very soon. Once I also get the courage.
Until then, what do you make of the wasp? Any thoughts on the meaning, if any? I would love to hear your opinion!