Me and the bee

Long ago, I made one of my many bad choices.

I went outside to play, and saw a five-gallon bucket.

There was water in it and a bee on it.

I’d been told bees don’t usually bother you if you don’t bother them, which has since proven to be mostly true, but I was a young boy and it proved impossible not to test such a theory.

I picked a few blades of grass and pushed them toward the bee in an attempt to coax it off of the bucket.

When the bee refused to budge, I decided it should drown.

I grabbed the bee, dunked it and held it there for a few seconds before a sharp pain seared through my hand.

I let go and looked down at my thumb, which throbbed and swelled up around a black stinger.

The lifeless bee floated in the bucket and my thumb hurt like the dickens.

The point of this story is choices have consequences.

Life is a series of choices. Before you make one, I’ve learned it’s a good idea to consider whether the consequences will leave you happy or hurt and holding a giant thumb.

Consequences can also stick with you for years.

It’s been decades, but I still remember the pain of my choice.

I also remember it worked out a whole lot better for me than it did for the bee.

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