My balcony is equipped with a clothesline; the apartment unit has a washing machine, but no dryer. Today was laundry day, so naturally, I was outside shaking out clothing to hang up. Out of nowhere (at least it seemed that way), a bee fell onto the balcony, landing with a rather dramatic thud. I looked down at it in shock. For a moment, I stood motionless as it wiggled a few of its legs around and propped its stinger up in the air.
My first thought was, "WOA, there are bees in CHINA?!"
My second thought was, "oh shit, I'm allergic to bees." Then my mind was consumed with the silly, "what if's" that a mind can come up with when there is too much room for thinking. What if it stings me and I die on the balcony? Noone will find me until it's too late! I continued to stare at the bee while considering my fate. After a few more seconds of watching the bee struggle to move, I placed my laundry bucket on top of it.
Something strange flicked around inside my stomach. I've always been allergic to bees, however, I've never felt threatened, or been afraid of them before. I continued to hang my clothing out, but when I finished, and lifted up the laundry bucket, I found the bee even more crippled than before. My heart sank.
I felt shame as I walked back inside and left the bee to suffer through its few final minutes of life. What the fuck? Really though. I could have left the bee to dance around with its awkward little stinger sticking up while I continued to hang my laundry, right (this is a rhetorical question, you don't have to answer)? It would have been like we were doing a little dance together, he with his stinger and I with my clothesline. What's wrong with me, yo?