I have no fewer than, count 'em, one... two.. THIRTEEN mosquito bites under my right arm pit. There must have been a wedding party for Mr. and Mrs Bloodsucker last night, and my pit was the most happenin' place in town (ew). Of course their cousins made stops at knee-pit, ankle, thigh and waist band as well, so Tour-de-Kim was complete to every curve and crevasse. But the pit? Really? Is Secret Ultra Dry really that delectable? It certainly didn't make the table at OUR wedding buffet (between the little smokeys and potato salad).
All this despite the fact that every night Patrick battles the flying vampires with our mosquito tennis racket (think bug zapper designed in the form of a bad-mitten racket). He can ZAP enough mosquitos in one swipe to create an orchestra of pop and crackles worthy of a 4th of July hurrah!
I'm bring sexy back. There is nothing hotter than a sweaty 30-something clawing her pits to death fighting the histamine flair of 13 inflamed bites. I think its time to dust off the Chloraquin.
No really, come to Haiti. Its lovely. But don't forget the DEET.
NET. You guys need a net and before you reply it is to hot. You can at a relatively low cost get a 12 volt fan and car battery to set up. Put the fan under the net and you'll be safe and have a breeze. Malaria isn't fun.
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ReplyDeleteYou are right! We've been dragging our feet up until now because usually our house is relatively mospito free. We installed screens on the windows which works like a dream as long as we remember to close the balcony door before dusk... which... as you might have guessed... we didn't get to in time a few nights ago. Our office at work harbors a hide-away colony of mosquitos as well, and I'm a little suspicious that I was attacked there instead of at home since the boys faired without any wheels and flairs!
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