Things Got Real Intimate

“Intimacy, as I am using it, is sharing my reality with you.” ~ Keith Miller

Sharing. A concept parents try to instill in their children at an early age. I was no different.

I don’t mind sharing. Usually.

I don’t mind sharing my shower, although I’m rather selective about it. Matter of fact, it’s downright one of the sexiest things to share.

Per my usual routine, I was in the shower (alone) this morning. Or so I thought. Eyes closed, water sluicing down my back, massaging shampoo into my hair. . .

First, there was a faint whir.

Then, a louder buzz.

And then, something brushed against my arm.

Usually armed, I make an exception in the shower. Taking a deep breath and staying calm, I cracked one eye open only to find myself staring into the eyes of a wasp. A voyeuristic wasp even.

Sitting on my arm. Staring at me. Oblivious to the water and steam surrounding us.

This. . . is NOT. . . sexy.

Normally I would take a shoe to this thing, but again, I’m in the shower. Shoeless.

I’m wet. My hands are slippery. Every available item is wet and slippery. My chances of aiming and hitting this thing without dropping my chosen weapon (and probably getting stung in the process) are slim to none.

We had a stare-down and I’m not sure who won. After a few seconds. . .very loooong seconds, the little freak flew over to the top of the shower curtain and perched until I finished.

Sharing intimacy with bugs is not my cup-o-tea I’ve decided.

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