Summertime, and the living is easy. Thank you George Gershwin.

He wrote those lyrics to describe the slowed pace, the casual “live and let live” attitude that is often associated with summer. The weather heats up and things slow down. That is, of course, except for the mosquitoes. Summertime begins and the party cry goes out. “Now’s the time to fly. Now’s the time to buzz in the night. Now’s the time to chow down! Woo-hoo! Party on!”

Then, just as I am dozing off, I hear one arrive. Seems that I am the nightclub where the mosquitoes like to wile away their evenings. I swat into the air and wait. Silence. Good. Now, back to sleep. But wait. It’s back. It’s bigger and it has brought friends. I dive under the sheet and try to pretend that breathing is just for sissies. After a couple of minutes, I can’t stand it anymore and I resurface, listening. Nothing. Silence. I uncover just my head and begin to fall asleep again. Then. . .z z z z z z z z z z z Oh, no! They’re back again. I roll over and see that Emerson is sleeping soundly and seems to be totally oblivious to the mosquitoes. I feel a sting—I’ve been hit! Owwwww!

I get up and rifle through a drawer in search of the Vape, which is a plug-in device that warms an herbal insecticide. The fragrance of stale perfume wafts through the air. Yuck. But, if it keeps the dreaded mosquitoes away, then I’ll suffer through the smell.

The Italians have a theory about mosquitoes and the people who attract them. Jokingly, they say that zanzare, mosquitoes are only attracted to “good” people and that they are repulsed by “bad” people. I’m nice, but not that nice. The theory’s a little suspect. Another theory is that the mosquitoes are attracted to those people who have “sweet” blood. Well, if that theory is true, I have maple syrup flowing through my veins and arteries.

I have concluded that I’m allergic to the bites. Day/stage 1 is the sting or bite itself, which is momentary and hardly noticeable. Stage 2 arrives within 24-36 hours—I have a raised area on my skin that reminds me of a salt map that I had to make in junior high school, depicting the mountain ranges of Spain. The raised area is also hot to the touch, so I radiate heat, even through my clothes. In stage 3 the effect begins to wear off and I have only a lingering outline. By the time day 4 arrives, the site is nearly invisible. Finally, stage 5  finds me itch free and finally comfortable. The problem is that these little jerks take turns and so I have various sites in various stages!

So I’m waiting for cooler weather, when the mosquito season ends. Patience, I must have patience. I am resolved to “tough it out.” Then yesterday while hanging out laundry, a wasp found my pant leg and, unbeknownst to me, entered. I am in stage 3 of recovery.

Posted on August 3, 2010

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