Bee stings and Bad vibes

I was stung by a bee today. At least, I think it was a bee- it may have been a hornet, wasp, or yellow jacket; all I know is it hurt. Who's on the lookout for bees in the sleeve of their bathrobe? Now I'm scared to ever put on my robe again, and mornings are cold here in Massachusetts.

My Painting teacher at Amherst won't speak to me. This has been going on since the beginning of classes and frankly I'm getting a little annoyed. He won't say hello to me when I say hello to him; he raises his eyebrows and purses his lips- you know the face I mean. When we're painting he walks around and looks at our work and makes comments, but he never talks to me. You know I exaggerate- Emily's paradox: everything I say is hyperbolic- but I am not exaggerating now. He occasionally looks at my paintings; sometimes he'll even address a comment to the class that's obviously about me, but he refuses to speak directly to me and as a result I dislike him. I should be fair- I tend to dislike virtually all art teachers because they are not Allen Bentley- I'm spoiled for all other art teachers forever, which is okay by me since I get quite a bit of mileage out of the instruction I received from Allen. But I personally dislike my Amherst painting teacher, and that's different. I can't imagine what I could have done to make him behave this way: I always smile and say hello; my paintings are neither very good nor very bad: I'm a high average. I have decided not to let him get away with ignoring me: from now on I will simply ask him questions whenever he gets within ten feet of me. That ought to do the trick.