After this brutal winter, I was so, so excited when the sun finally came out and the average temperature rose from 6 to 76. “Ahh, spring is here!” I sang merrily as I busted out my flowy tank tops, lopped all the legs off my jeans, and hung a hammock in my backyard. After pouring myself a glass of iced tea, I went out to enjoy the first warm afternoon, but my fantasy was promptly interrupted by a terrible, ugly reality: MOSQUITOES. MOSQUITOES EVERYWWHEEERRRREEE. I fought them off for a few minutes before finally retreating inside to scratch my bites, clean the spilled tea off my shirt, and glare at the cloud of blood-suckers buzzing around my sad, empty hammock.
Mosquitos are like childbirth: you never remember how awful they are until you’re right in the midst of them. And, like clockwork, I had forgotten about the horrors of mosquitoes until they were upon me, ravaging my legs and arms and ruining my idyllic spring lifestyle.
But luckily, in spite of my mosquito amnesia, I did remember something else. Keep reading »