Yesterday, I saw the first fabulous signs of Spring. It wasn't blooming daffodils or dogwoods. It wasn't sidewalk chalk murals in the driveway. It wasn't my pollen-covered car. It wasn't even the new Lilly Pulitzer sundresses. What, you ask, was it?
I'll tell you.
A wasp flew up my pants leg and stung me. Twice.
Happy freaking Spring, y'all.