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Rain + spring = ....
Mud. Flowers. Mowing the lawn every weekend. Busy carwashes. Hailstorms. Broken tree branches. Insurance claims. Water in s2m's house. But mostly...mosquitoes. Yes, mosquitoes. Or as I oh-so-fondly call them, skeeters.
I loathe skeeters. I hate them with a burning passion. The level of my abhorrence cannot be expressed in words extreme enough to do justice to my terrible passion. I hate skeeters every bit as much as I hate fire ants and scorpions, especially when they are inside my house. (The latter critter will earn a post of its own before too long.)
So why the sudden rant about skeeters?? Let me explain.
It has rained more this year than it has since the late 1990s. In fact, since 2000 my part of the nation has been in a horrible drought. But now--rain. Lots and lots of rain. Sheets of it! A torrential downpour!!! More rain than you can shake an umbrella at! Yay, no more drought!! And a lovely, free omake of...! Skeeters.
The little monsters are everywhere. I go outside in the middle of the day--with the sun blazing overhead--and I'm attacked. My defenseless bare legs are besieged, and I feel that telltale tickle. My hand swipes at my skin--too late. The welt is already forming. I smear anti-itch lotion all over for a minor reprieve, but it never lasts. I scratch with my hands. I scratch with my toes. I scratch with a pencil, with a comb. I slather on more lotion only to awaken the next day and find that I've scratched myself raw in my sleep.
I must go outside at least three times a day. It's unavoidable. The horses need their lunch, they need their dinner, and I need to exercise. To face the horrible enemy, I don my armor. Sweatpants, socks, shoes, t-shirt, jacket, a hat. And that lovely, magical shield...insect repellent. The more DEET, the better. I douse every last inch of clothing and exposed skin, and underneath my shirt for good measure. Flowers and grass wilt as I walk past. Butterflies drop dead out of the air. The air shimmers as the fumes rise from me. It's 95 degrees outside and I'm dressed for freezing rain, all to avoid being sucked dry by the miniature buzzing parasites. The moment I'm indoors, I strip down to my underwear and change clothes. And if I had to walk through high grass at any point in my brave excursion through the enemy encampment, then the bra and panties go, too. After I exercise? Immediately in the shower, scrub everywhere, followed by complete clothes change.
All of this to protect my tender flesh and precious blood...yet the little monsters STILL ravage me.
But hey, at least these are fresh, running water skeeters, instead of stagnant, nasty still water skeeters. Those, apparently, are the ones who carry West Nile. So freshwater skeeters BANZAI!!!!!!! Now pardon me while I take a celebratory swim in anti-itch cream.
Bring back the drought. ><
So why the sudden rant about skeeters?? Let me explain.
It has rained more this year than it has since the late 1990s. In fact, since 2000 my part of the nation has been in a horrible drought. But now--rain. Lots and lots of rain. Sheets of it! A torrential downpour!!! More rain than you can shake an umbrella at! Yay, no more drought!! And a lovely, free omake of...! Skeeters.
The little monsters are everywhere. I go outside in the middle of the day--with the sun blazing overhead--and I'm attacked. My defenseless bare legs are besieged, and I feel that telltale tickle. My hand swipes at my skin--too late. The welt is already forming. I smear anti-itch lotion all over for a minor reprieve, but it never lasts. I scratch with my hands. I scratch with my toes. I scratch with a pencil, with a comb. I slather on more lotion only to awaken the next day and find that I've scratched myself raw in my sleep.
I must go outside at least three times a day. It's unavoidable. The horses need their lunch, they need their dinner, and I need to exercise. To face the horrible enemy, I don my armor. Sweatpants, socks, shoes, t-shirt, jacket, a hat. And that lovely, magical shield...insect repellent. The more DEET, the better. I douse every last inch of clothing and exposed skin, and underneath my shirt for good measure. Flowers and grass wilt as I walk past. Butterflies drop dead out of the air. The air shimmers as the fumes rise from me. It's 95 degrees outside and I'm dressed for freezing rain, all to avoid being sucked dry by the miniature buzzing parasites. The moment I'm indoors, I strip down to my underwear and change clothes. And if I had to walk through high grass at any point in my brave excursion through the enemy encampment, then the bra and panties go, too. After I exercise? Immediately in the shower, scrub everywhere, followed by complete clothes change.
All of this to protect my tender flesh and precious blood...yet the little monsters STILL ravage me.
But hey, at least these are fresh, running water skeeters, instead of stagnant, nasty still water skeeters. Those, apparently, are the ones who carry West Nile. So freshwater skeeters BANZAI!!!!!!! Now pardon me while I take a celebratory swim in anti-itch cream.
Bring back the drought. ><