Why Taking the Trash Out Is a Man's Job

I stepped on a bee today. With no shoes on. And got stung. On the bottom of my toe. It hurts.

So, I was throwing a box in the outside trash can when my toe starting burning. I though I had stepped in fire ants. I looked down. Nothing. I looked at the bottom of my foot. A bee. I'm not gonna lie. I started a commotion. Rett and Jake were inside so I yelled. Nothing. I waddled inside and yelled. Nothing. Rett finally comes out.

Cindy: There is a bee on the bottom of my foot.
Rett: No there isn't.
Cindy: What do you think I'm doing?
Rett: No there isn't.
I sit down and prop my foot on the table.
Rett: There is a bee.
Cindy: Get it off.
He gets a paper towel and grabs the bee. The stinger is still in there.
Rett: I need tweezers.
Cindy: Make-up.
He comes back with tweezers and a hair clip. I scream the entire time because things don't hurt if you scream while they are happening. Jake laughs the entire time. I reminded him that I did not laugh at him today when he fell off the playground at the mall and hurt his arm. He laughed harder. I start talking about amputees and joining the circus with my 9 toes. My toe (and foot) is very swollen, very red and hurts. Next time I see a bee it will die. Or I will run away screaming. Either one...