Spring came exceedingly late to Minnesota, but it finally came.
One moment, it was endless snow, then dull brown barren nothingness.
Suddenly, the bleakness was transformed into glorious green lush, leafy loveliness and verdant freshness!
For two perfectly golden days, I enjoyed the warmth, basking in the glow of sudden spring. I went on long walks, reveled in the wearing of short-sleeved shirts, and gleefully pulled my capris and sandals from their long winter hibernation deep within the bowels of my closet.
It was amazing enough that my heart began to soften towards Minnesota, and I almost forgave the arctic vortex that this past winter had been.
But on the third day of warm bliss, I arrived at the unfortunate realization that this land of ten thousand lakes was also the land of ten bajillion hungry mothers seeking food for their proliferate offspring.
Bella Swan had blood that the sparkly Edward Cullen found irresistible. Unfortunately, my blood is irresistible to blood suckers of another kind.
(As much as I hate to admit it, I’d rather have Bella’s type of creepy stalker than the ones that have been plaguing me for the past week -_-)
The hordes have descended, and I spent pretty much all of last week hiding indoors.
How bad can it be? You ask. And indeed, many have scoffed at my aversion to mosquitoes. After all, it’s just a bug bite. Am I THAT much of a wimp that a nibble from a tiny little insect will induce me to avoid the great outdoors?
In direct proportion to the love mosquitoes have for my apparently gourmet blood is the severe reaction my skin has to their fondness.
A typical bite leaves a welt on my skin that looks like this:
Lovely right? hours of deformed blotchiness accompanied by severely fiery itching. good times.
But it’s only one bite! (laugh those whom the mosquitoes avoid) Just One? Oh no… My blood seems to beckon any mosquito within a one-mile radius.
Yesterday, I had to venture outdoors to feed the chickens. In the space of the two and a half minutes it took to carry the feed to the coop, exchange the old water for fresh, and dash back indoors, I had acquired THIRTEEN mosquito bites. And that was just on one leg. (Note to self: Homemade mosquito repellent made of lavender oil does NOT work. I was doused in the stuff. Mosquitoes may dislike the scent of lavender, but they like the scent of me even more.)
Behold some of the carnage:
The swelling has gone down quite a bit, but I still itch like crazy despite several re-applications of anti-itch cream -_-
This bodes ill for my online dating pursuits. 98% of the Minnesotan men whose profiles I’ve browsed claim a deep love of all things outdoors. (And all of these men seem to be looking for an activities partner. )
In most cases, I care deeply about the plight of poor, starving children.
In this circumstance, however, I have no sympathy. Kill all the mothers, and let their ravenous, blood-sucking spawn perish!