I was out gardening, transferring a sweet potato vine into a pot with a lilac, when there was a sharp jab in my hand.
"OW!" I said. "What the hell--?" and lifted my hand out of the pot.
There was a three inch long centipede attached to it.
I have nightmares like this.
I screamed, shook my hand, the centipede pulled its gigantic-ass stinger out of my flesh and dropped off, and I went in to call James and read on-line poison control information. The medical manuals all say "Put an ice cube on it and stop whining." If my hand swells badly--the sting itself is red and swollen, but not grotesque--go to the emergency room, but otherwise, just deal.
"Catch it! Catch it!" said James. "Otherwise they won't know what kind of centipede it was!" "You fucking catch it!" I snarled. "I know what pot it's in, but I'm not putting my hands back in there!"
Why do I garden without gloves? Why? Why do I always forget? Is the texture of loam between my fingers worth this? What am I thinking?
In case anyone's wondering, yes. It hurts. A lot. And of course, it's right where my stylus falls, so I can't work until it stops hurting.
As god is my witness, I will never go gloveless again.
Update: Called my doctor just in case. They said "Come in. Now." Hopefully this isn't a sign that I'm about to drop dead. At least they're responsive...