I'm a biologist, I don't mind most bugs that much. Spiders, I like 'em. Snow, it's hard to come by in warm Venezuela, so I don't trouble myself much over it. Wasps and bees, now THEY make me nervous. Perhaps it is because I've never been stung by one before. I don't go into a hysterical fit, but I certainly fidget a lot. I can never concentrate on anything if there's one of them stinging beasts around; I keep my eye locked on it, trying to guess its trajectory and doing my best not to be in the middle of it. I hate it when they come visit me at the lunch table in our patio. I always think that they're out to get me. Besides, I've got a dirty conscience: I did some work with these types of insect once... they must have my name on a list. ] They enjoy making me suffer too. They know I will not dare to hit them for fear of retaliation. So they buzz around contentedly, until I am forced to flee the scene. Quietly, of course, and with dignity; I would never let my enemies see my fear. But they know, and I know it.