Actually, I’m not referring to the inside of the house today, although that is definitely a frightening thing. I’m talking about our mosquito problem.
Die, bloodsuckers. Die.
The mosquitos are pretty rampant around our property. We live near a nice woods, and there are plenty of low-lying areas that hold water for them to camp out in. Our own yard is heavily wooded, as are the neighbors’, and so it’s damp and shady for much of the summer. Prime skeeter vacation land is all around us.
This year has been exceptionally bad, though. Last weekend, when we were spray-painting cabinetry out on the driveway, they were biting us during the day. Mosquitos aren’t supposed to do that. They’re like vampires. They only come out when the sun is gone, right? Apparently, they don’t understand the time-share concept. And the other night, when two friends came over to walk with us, we were barely out for 15 minutes before we had to retreat to the house. The skeeters were so bad that they were flying in clouds around our heads. My children look like they have the chicken pox, and that’s just the bites they got from getting into the van. I can imagine what they’d look like if I let them play outside.
We bought one of these things about two years ago at a garage sale. It’s been sitting on the deck ever since. Can you believe that we’ve never fired it up? Nearly two summers of mosquito madness has gone by, and we haven’t even made an effort to quell the onslaught. That’s like neglecting to raise the drawbridge when the castle is attacked. Lame.
Well, hubby has had enough. And there’s nothing like the raised hackles of an annoyed husband to spur things into action. Last night, he and his brother wheeled the Mosquito Magnet trap into our kitchen (yes, the kitchen) and began the manly ritual of peering at the gizmo, fiddling with the gizmo, going to get a special tool to fiddle with the gizmo, and then standing back to scrutinize the gizmo in its entirety. They then wheeled it back out onto the deck, and proceeded to tap and bang and fiddle some more, at which point the gizmo sputtered to life and started running. And lo, the Dark Angel of Mosquito Death was among us.
I’m still not planning to serve dinner on the patio tonight. But I do have hope for the future. Meanwhile, please pass the calamine lotion.