Skeeter bait.
That's me.
If there's a mosquito within five miles of me, it zeroes in on my scent and makes a beeline for any part of my anatomy it can find. And with someone my size, any parts of my anatomy are an easy target.
Hubster, bless his little pointed head, can sit out on the swing for hours on end without a single nibble. But let me go out there with him, and the swarms converge on me as if I was a bloody piece of meat in shark infested waters. Those little bloodsuckers could drain me dry in a matter of an hour, leaving a bumpy, itchy mess in their wake.
Oh, and did I mention I'm allergic to mosquito bites? Yet another plus.
So imagine my joy last night when I found my feet covered with itchy, swollen, red, ugly bumps. It seems as though a mosquito had found its way from the patio into my living room. Naturally, it decided to set up habitation where the most food could be found - in my little corner of the room. And being as my feet were the only uncovered part of my body other than my face, it naturally went for the easy target.
I said EASY, not BIGGEST.
Tonight I saw the little varmint. She was poised on my left foot, getting ready to strike again. Thankfully, it flew away as soon as I moved my foot. It landed on the wall, but got away before I could swat it. As of now it's MIA.
I will find it, though. And when I do, this Great White Hunter will send it to Mosquito Glory in short fashion. I may have to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous insects until then, but make no mistake - THIS BUG WILL DIE.
Unfortunately, it may be of old age.
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