The other day the weather was so beautiful when returning from my after-supper trip to feed the cats that I just stayed out on the porch and soaked up the beautiful scenery, the voices of the neighbours and the bright setting sun. Sitting there, I asked myself, why haven't I done this before?
I was called into the house before long, my sunset drinking cut short, so today, despite a fair amount of cloud making a much less lovely evening, I nevertheless determined to enjoy the weather on the porch after supper.
By the way, I've got all these itchy bites and I was thoroughly stumped as to where they came from. I have hardly seen a single mosquito here and the one or two I've seen have been so sluggish and slow-moving, I easily sent them to mosquito heaven. I haven't caught anything trying to bite me yet I keep finding insidious itchy spots.
Back to the porch. As I lingered there, Becky poked her head out the door with a warning, "the moot moots love this time of day." Oh. That's why I hadn't done it before: I believe I had heard a warning before about biting critters being worst at dusk. Not to be dissuaded from my outdoor absorption time, I put on some bug spray and sat out anyway, moot moots be hanged!
They were not, in fact, hanged. I may even have caught one or two at their dirty work. Either my bug spray was ineffectual.or more likely, my bugspraying was inept. Within a few hours, the familiar pink spots appeared up and down my right arm. But only the right, leading me to hope the latter is the cause.
This means war, bugs. I refused to be chased inside on a lovely night in Africa.
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