No, this isn’t a book post.

Bees.

I’ve written before about how much I hate bees. Loathe them. Terrified of them.

I’m aware that no one likes bees. No one has ever gotten stung and said, “Hey, that’s fun!” But my fear borders on the ridiculous.

And the other night, I was talking to Rand about my fear of needles.

I hate needles, too. Once, when I was a reporter back home, I was doing a story on a local doctor who was practicing acupuncture. He invited me to come and watch a procedure, and I was fine. Fine. Until suddenly, I apparently passed out. I was standing there, taking photos of the acupuncture, and then I was sitting in a chair with a nurse beside me whipping out the smelling salts.

The first time I had an IV inserted was when I was 23 or so, when I was having my wisdom teeth removed. I was actually in tears when the anesthesiologist came in, because I was afraid of the big, scary needle…

Point? For the first time in my life, I connected these two fears.

“Bees are like flying needles,” I exclaimed.

So there ya go.