Teensy Weensy Vampires

There’s blood-sucking little vampires cruising around my back yard in the early morning coolness and the relief of twilight. No, I’m not proposing a “Twilight” saga with midgets (although that idea would be hilarious); I’m referring to a recent boom of mosquitos in my area. After having weeks of torrential rain throughout June, now there’s a stretch of sweltering desert-like heat. Such weather conditions have made a near “perfect storm” for a dreaded mosquito explosion in our garden. And as much as I love spending time among the flower beds, the evil “skeeters” love me more.

I am one of those unfortunate people who are like magnets for mosquitos. I am like a much-hyped sale to a shopaholic or a neon-lit diner sign in the middle of a lonely prairie expanse. I have long suspected that friends invite me to their barbecue parties just so I’d attract the flying nuisances away from the other guests, thus ensuring a happy evening for the majority. Although my allergic reactions are not life-threatening, I do end up looking a little lumpy and monster-like with welts (think freckled with red tiddly-winks). Topical repellents are temporary barriers at best, daring those evil blighters with their mini knives and forks at the ready, to bide a wee bit longer for their feast of flesh, waiting until I sweat my chemical layer away. (If they ever make a citronella-based deodorant stick or moisturizer there may be hope yet.) There’s no masking that smell of bug lotion, and all the other options (like dryer sheets, mouth wash, bath oil spray, etc.) simply make the mosquitos laugh.

Death to Skeeters!

If they weren’t so darn expensive, I’d consider purchasing one of those elaborate high-tech bug-zapping machines, the ones that promise not to scatter the obliterated remains of any flying bug that’s stupid enough to “go to the light”. Those little particles in the air would really put me off from enjoying a spritzer or a burger at dinnertime on our deck – and I don’t need the additional protein, thanks.

It really is amazing how one miniscule insect can send the bed linens flying in a panic to locate our bug-zapper wand after the lights go out at bedtime. It’s especially frustrating to hear that distinctive and threatening buzz somewhere within earshot – but elusive to find. For a person who is generally pretty even-natured, I’m like a woman possessed, on a mission to seek and destroy the little blood-sucking varmint. If I thought wearing Rambo gear and weaponry would boost my chances of wiping out every mosquito within a mile of me, I would certainly give it a try, but I’d opt for at least a turquoise bandana to go with the camouflage garb. Sometimes function and fashion have to share the stage.

I learned way back in my teenage years that I was never going to be a tent-style camper. It was misery contemplating how long I could last before making a dash for the campground washroom at night, knowing I’d be eaten alive both ways. Decades later, I still don’t enjoy “pitching it in the backwoods”, mainly because of the insects. And maybe sleeping on a crummy air-mattress. Let’s just say I’d give some consideration to “roughing it” in an RV, with air-conditioning and a soft bed, sturdy bug screens in place, and a few layers of aluminum and fiberglass between me and those ‘lil vampires. Let ’em try getting to me then – ha!