I live in Minnesota. Mosquitoes live in Minnesota. Billions and billions and billions live where I live. Just like the challenges of a brutal winter, we Minnesotans are fairly philosophical about mosquitoes. They are just part of life. At least they are not like alligators in Florida, or poisonous snakes in some of the southern states. Mosquitoes can’t kill you, usually. They just annoy.
But they do annoy.
I am an early riser. I wake up before any alarm, about 5 a.m. I’m not drowsy; I don’t poke at the clock to get a nice mini-nap in before getting up. I just get up. I like this time of day. That’s a foreign thought to most people I know, but I do. It’s quiet (after feeding the dogs) and a time of day for me to ponder life’s mysteries, look at e-mail and think about what I’m going to do today. It’s peaceful. Yet, in the summer, that peace is shattered by small flying things. Many small flying things. There’s just nothing like coming down to my desk in the morning to check e-mail or write and have several drift past in front of my face. My desk is in my workspace, which is also inhabited by eight whippets. Eight whippets that perpetually go outside through the two dog doors day or night. Eight very warm blooded whippets that are a four legged feast to the mosquitoes. Eight whippets that return to the safe haven of the house, bringing a hoard of mosquitoes with them. Abandoning their free ride, the mosquitoes branch out and begin looking for other victims. Me.
At first it’s fine – just slap when one lands or wave them away. But having them repeatedly drift through my field of vision looking at the computer gets increasingly irritating. Not to mention when they begin to land on my face or hands. I HATE mosquito bites on my fingers, face and hands.
I am a non violent person. I am a wimp about violence on TV and I never went to see everyone’s favorite movie, Titanic. I couldn’t go, knowing that I’d have to watch all those people die when the ship sunk. Truly a wimp.
But even a wimp has their limits. At first I slap, but when a slap to the side of my face leaves a smear of whippet blood from a previous victim, THAT’S IT. I get out the bat. I call it a bat, but it really looks like a small version of a tennis racket and where the strings are, it’s electrified. This bat is a mosquito annihilator. I can pin them against the wall and as they bounce against the bat, they drop to the floor dead. But what’s best is when I swing it through the air and get a reaaaaaly satisfying SNAP as it sends one into the next world. In five minutes I can clear my entire area of mosquitoes, pinning, waving and taking great pleasure at the snapping sound.
Watch out mosquitoes. Wimps rule!