Free Killing Me Softly by Kathryn R. Biel

done before I can move in. Carpets to tear up, hardwoods to refinish. Stripping, sanding, and painting. Lots of painting. I think I may need to look at some wiring as well. The bathroom needs an overhaul."
    "What about the kitchen?"
    "The kitchen is fantastic. It's what made me fall in love with the place."
    True story. The previous owner re-did the kitchen before he ran out of money. The cabinets are a mint green and may be original to the house, restored and refaced. There's a tile backsplash that pops against the tangerine walls. Sounds hideous I know, but in reality, it's spectacular. And, it's so me.
    "Who's working on the place?"
    "Yours truly." I try to ignore her raised eyebrow. "Dad here taught me well. I'm a pro with power tools."
    "Are you going to hire out at all?"
    "I'm sure I will, if it gets to that point."
    "Let me give you my son's number. He's a contractor, so he's very good with his hands."
    Ick. Not the endorsement I want to be hearing from someone's mother.
    "You know I'm not looking to date anyone right now, Helga. Not after this year."
    "I know, Sadie. This is purely business. Trust me, you need to call him. You won't be sorry."
    Famous last words.
     
    *******
     
    Let me set the scene for my life's latest disaster. I put a call in to Helga's son. He agrees to show up after he finishes on his other job site to do a walk through and come up with estimates for both time and price. Great. I've got time to do a few things before he shows up. But, as with any home improvement project, it's all the 'but firsts' that get you. For example, I need to clean the leaves and garbage out of the front yard. The house has been vacant for a while. So I sweep and pile it all up. To finish the job, I need to get to the garbage cans that are at the end of the alley next to the house. But first, to get to them, I have to pick up the cardboard and debris that are blocking access to the cans.
    So this is what I'm doing. I've got a large pile of stuff right in front of my front door to be collected. I look, and the garbage cans are totally blocked by this massive stack of cardboard, like a year's worth of recycling left to disintegrate. So, I start pulling up the cardboard. Which then reveals a bees' nest. And boy, are those bees pissed that I disrupted their hiding spot! Oh, have I mentioned that I am allergic—severely allergic—to bees?
    With about fifteen minutes to go until Helga's son arrives, I find myself in a swarm of bees. Naturally, I'm wearing shorts, as this warm May day would dictate. So, it's not surprising when a bee, very displeased to be disturbed, flies up my shorts' leg. And stings me. In my groin.
    Within moments, my leg—well, my crotch—begins to swell. I hobble into the house, dig some Benadryl out of the box labeled for my bathroom. How I manage to find that box so quickly, I will never know. I take about four pills, hoping to ward off anaphylaxis. The welt in my privates has grown to the size of a softball or large grapefruit. I hobble to the kitchen and procure some ice to put on my groin. For future reference, the words 'ice' and 'groin' should never be used in the same sentence.
    The massive dose of Benadryl has started to make me a little—lot—loopy, which is why I accidentally answer my phone when it rings. It's my mother, and if I had been in full possession of my mental faculties, I never would have answered the phone.
    "'Lo." I slur.
    "Sadie? Is that you?"
    "You called me. Who do you think it is?"
    "Are you alright? You sound drunk?"
    "Nah, I just had to take a bunch of Benadryl. I got attacked by bees."
    "You should call 911. You could die!"
    "Naaaah. That's why I took so many pills. I have a guy coming to give me an estimate on the work, and I can't miss it."
    "I'm not far away. I'll be right over."
    "I'm okay, Mom ..."
    The next thing I know, my mother is shaking me awake. "Dear God, Sadie? Are you okay? Sadie, do you know where you are?"
    I look at her and focus. Shit, she came to