Swat! Slap! I Got Him! Aw, He Got Me.
MY SKIN LOOKS LIKE A CLOSE-UP OF THE SURFACE OF AN ORANGE. I am covered with mosquito bites. Why me, Oh Lord?
“Because you are a warm blooded creation that makes mosquitoes go ‘Yum,’ My son.”
Well, that explains it all. Thanks, God.
In the wake of Hurricane Harvey a Gazillion mosquito larvae erupted into the air, all looking for lunch and I must look like the buffet at the Golden Corral Restaurant.
Welcome to post-hurricane Texas.
Everything was fine for the first four days after the storm – if you ignore the death and 
destruction. Then, on day five, – KABOOM! All of those baby mosquitoes launched into the air looking for a free meal. If you stepped outside you would be immediately targeted by swarms of the little biting bugs. Opening the door was looked upon as an invitation to come into your house. We spent a lot of time chasing bugs around with rolled up newspapers trying to make conditions livable.
Braving the onslaught we hit every open Wal-Mart and other store looking for anything that might kill the bugs. Of course everybody else in the area had the same idea, only first. There was NOTHING in any store, anywhere, at any time, closer that Detroit. The feeding frenzy continued.
We originally came down to Texas for a funeral that had to be postponed because of the hurricane. The storm hit, everything was rescheduled for Sunday, September third. Everyone scurried inside for the services swatting their way. After that solemnity there was the move to the gravesite…at the cemetery, outdoors. My wife, the lovely and ministerially qualified, Dawn, conducted the service amid the staccato sounds of slapping and quiet cursing.
I was trying to maintain an appropriate demeanor when my nephew slapped my face.
“Got him!”
Another mosquito bit the dust
I whispered to him, “Under other circumstances you and I would now be having a fistfight. Thanks.”
Five minutes of solemnity followed by people running to their cars like they were being chased by Godzilla. In a way we were.
We did manage to locate some Citronella candles, big candles sitting in red tin buckets. We lit up those puppies and it looked like a vast kamikaze attack as the mosquitoes were drawn to the flame thinking it was me.
I smiled all the while screaming, “Die! Die, you Demon Spawn! Die!” Or words to that effect.
The City has been spraying “God Knows What” twice a day to try to get on top of the situation. It has been helping, I think. Everyone says that the plague should be ending soon – unless it rains. If that happens we are back to square one. In the meantime, in between time, I got itchy bumps.
I don’t know how these flying droplets of instinct driven DNA do it, but they are able to find their way to parts of my body that very few people have had the privilege of visiting. Once there they do nasty things and I end up scratching myself in public. In private. In perpetuity.
Our stay in Texas, because of that hurricane, has been extended from one week to more than two weeks. We have had flights cancelled both in Corpus Christi and in Houston. We, along with many other people, are stranded here. It’s a good thing we are staying in the family home and not in a hotel.
We packed for a one week visit. We are getting really tired of wearing the same clothes over and over, and over.
And I really, really, really hate mosquitoes.
Down the Hall on Your Left 