Have you ever had one of those weekends that’s the opposite of everything you intended?

I took off last Thursday and Friday to have a longer weekend. My goal was to go take care of taxes, see the doctor, tend to the animal pens, take care of the yard, work around the farm and … to relax. I was excited. I thought it sounded like a great weekend. I highly enjoy doing outdoor physical work at my place. It might sound strange but I find it relaxing. There is also a sense of satisfaction when I look at what I have accomplished by the end of the day.

Thursday went as expected. I saw the doctor, did my taxes etc...

Friday however, nothing went as I imagined. First, I mowed the yard and then realized somewhere on the three acres, I dropped my keys. It had my gate, mailbox, work, jeep and house keys. It was important to find them. I walked the property like it was a grid, back and forth in three feet sections. I went over the yard four times. During this time, I could feel the sun on my shoulders but I ignored it while I was concentrating on the search. By the time I stopped, I was crisp. Blister crisp.

However, I decided to go ahead and take care of the chickens. I was carrying a hen to a separate pen and she pooped diarrhea down the front of my shirt. Tired, hot and dirty, I decided I needed a break, threw up my hands and went to the house.

Once inside, I noticed the den was warm so I decided to shut the curtains. When I reached up to pull them across and a red wasp landed on my chest and went down my sports bra before I could bat an eye.

By the first sting, I was moving in circles and hollering {like somehow that could help} as it repeatedly stung me, the whole time I had a hold of my shirt and bra trying to smash the wasp and get the bugger out!

I sounded a lot like the dad from “The Christmas Story.” I was dancing and screaming obscenities so loud I think the birds and dogs went silent outside.

I’m fairly sure I could have brought the house down around my ears.

The dang wasp managed to live through my attempts to smash it; it got out of my clothes and landed on my burnt shoulder. It took me about another 30 minutes to find it after it flew off. It had managed to sting me four times. Why on earth don’t wasps at least have the decency to die after they sting a person? It’s not like it was invited into the house.

Folks, I can not express my ever growing disdain for red wasps. It’s intense. Last year, I rolled over in the night, sound asleep and one stung the palm of my hand.

The year before that, one got me in the forehead in the goat barn. Nasty buggers.

Anyway, I walked away from Friday’s experience with what looked like an extra “mutant boob” in the middle of my chest. I’ve paid my dues.

After this weekend, I expect next weekend to totally rock.