Starting the day with a bad buzz...

I had an early appointment with the doctor today, a follow up to last weeks diagnosis of  tendonitis (lateral epicondylitis) (aka: tennis elbow).
I have been a slug at home this week. Basically doing as little as possible to let my arm rest. I did catch the laundry up Tuesday. I forgot a load of jeans on the clothes line overnight, but did remember to bring them in before the rain started yesterday. However, they didn't get folded, but remained piled into a basket on the couch, where I grabbed a pair to put on after my shower this morning.
I took the jeans into the nice warm bathroom, and tossed them over the table by the heater while I showered.
I got dried off. I got my dainties on, and my shirt. I snagged up my now warmed pair of Levi jeans and pulled them on.
No laughing.
I was immediately aware that a fire had started on my inner thigh, and I was being stabbed by a needle. (Surely must be 12 gauge!) And... there is something other than myself squirming around in my jeans. The pain has me shrieking- screaming bloody murder! I came out of the jeans faster than I got into them. I was hopping around on one foot trying not to fall over as I shucked and screeched.
(Well, since you won't be able to help it, go ahead and laugh.)
I figured I was spider bitten. Until one large red wasp exited the jeans shortly after I did. Apparently she was none too thrilled at being shut up for more than 24 hours buried in a laundry basket. And then to be forced to share her confines with the likes of ME!
My screams brought Daniel... who beat a hasty retreat at the sight of a semi clothed matriarch still hopping and screaming and flailing about the bathroom. With his back to me, he asked what I needed. Antihistamine? Advil?
My request for the demise of the infernal insect was deferred until such a time as I obtained decency. I found another pair of clean jeans and inspected them carefully before donning them.
Daniel was trying to flick the wasp off the light fixture, rather than kill it outright. But a little flick of the flyswatter caused the entire globe to shatter to bits, and Waspy was way less than happy. Dan soon dispatched the wasp. I had to clean up glass from the floor before rushing on to my appointment.
(I have since found glass in the bath tub, on the counter, in the cat's box, in the carpet outside the bathroom door...)

I made it to my appointment. Doc was going to send me to some specialist, but I dissuaded him for the moment. From researching the injury, the best treatment is rest and TIME. He still sent me for lab work. I guess the docs are under a lot of pressure to check every Boomer aged adult for Hep-C.
I resigned as dishwasher at the Spoon. A repetitive motion injury is not going to heal if you don't stop the repetitive motion! I will try to remain as the casserole apprentice, but will have to see how much repetitive motion is involved there.

Meanwhile, the wasp sting's swelling has gone from a small, hard knot the size of a fingernail, to a more wide spread swollen spot across the soft tissue of the inner thigh. I don't seem to be having an allergic reaction to it at all. I wouldn't say this is an undue amount of swelling.
Well, that's all the buzz from here. Thanks for reading.