In the past several years, I’ve gotten mosquito bites in exactly two places:
1. The Foster Botanical Garden in Honolulu. The first day we were in Hawaii, it seemed like I was bitten by every mosquito in the park. The rest of the bugs on the island must have decided I’d been tapped out, because no new bites appeared all week. Of course, the ones I had stayed with me for about a month.
2. Outside alenxa’s parents’ house. Repeatedly.
Maybe it’s just that I don’t spend a lot of time standing around in shorts outside at night. (With three cats in the house, I basically can’t stay inside for more than a few minutes without breaking out the Benadryl.) Or maybe they really do have more mosquitoes there than we do. But lately it seems that every time we go over there, I come back with bug bites. That. Won’t. Stop. Itching.
You know, this might actually be a use for emergency pants. Or just bug repellent.
May I suggest to you the citronella blow torch?
Despite what Torg thinks, fire is appropriate for almost any situation….
In the past several years, I’ve gotten mosquito bites in exactly two places:
Y’know, reading this sentence the wrong way makes it a DISTURBING introduction.