This weekend we went up to the mountains for a little R&R, and it a bit of nostaligia for my childhood, I got eaten alive by mosquitos and horseflies. I love how if you scratch one they all begin to itch harmony. Then parts of you that aren't lumpy even begin to itch. I tell you, I was not outside for more than two hours total from Friday night to Sunday night. And yet I managed to get bit three times in the same location in the middle of my back (dreadfully hard to reach for itching), one ginormous one on my ankle, two on my left arm--no three, I just found another!--one on my left clavicle, one on my left wrist and that's just the ones I can find easily.
It isn't revelatory, but I hate their loud angry buzzing at night in a quiet room. I hate how they swarm a porchlight like a fog. I hate how they buzz around your face, finding you by the carbon dioxide that you breathe out. They are hateful and I hate them. And they carry West Nile virus, which kills horses, birds (?) and humans, although rarely. Great.
I tell you, it does not pay to be juicy, no matter what those sweatpants say.