Spoke Too Soon...

It would appear that I have jinxed myself on this whole "mosquitoes don't exist in Kenya" thing.  Or at least with my haughty "Kenyan mosquitoes can't touch me up here on my high Nairobian-elevation pedestal" attitude.  Maybe it's
because we're moving from winter into spring, and this week is the first week that it's been decently warm before lunchtime.  Maybe it's because the cleaning lady left my kitchen window open yesterday, and I didn't realize it, so it stayed open all night.  Whatever the reason, I have now learned the hard way that I am indeed not mosquito-invincible in Kenya.  Ah well.  The delusion was fun while it lasted.  But you know what they say.  All good things must come to an end... 

Why is that anyway?  Why do  they say that?  What a horrible thing to teach little kids.  Sure you can't live in perpetual fairytale land, but I don't want my eventual children thinking that someday, there will be no more cute little old people holding hands and that all of the ice cream in the world is going to eventually be gone.  Not all  good things must come to an end.  What kind of nonsense is that?  I'd like to meet the grouchy, "not only is the glass half empty; the glass has a hole  in it" person who came up with this bunch of bollocks and put him in a room full of pre-schoolers as you hand them a litter of squirmy new puppies.  What a room full of happy that would be.  You couldn't possibly  walk away from that and remain so jaded with the world...could you?

But I digress.  Sorry...I'm suddenly very distracted by this terribly disturbing notion of negativity and gloom.  Well, that, and the thought of no more Ben & Jerry's makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.  Anyway, back to my mosquito conundrum...

So I'm scurrying around my apartment this morning getting ready for work, just like any normal day, and I feel it.  That familiar, itchy tingle on my right arm.  I scratch my arm and move along, more concerned with the fact that John is going to be here in 12 minutes, I'm still wearing a towel, and my hair is soaking wet.  Then, I feel the tingly itch again...this time, on my left elbow.  No way,  I think.  This is not happening to me.  Four minutes and four more tingly itch locations later -- left knee, right shoulder, right cheekbone, left ankle -- and it's confirmed.  It's 7:52 in the morning, my hair is still dripping, I'm still not dressed, and I am at war with an insect. 

As I'm standing in front of my closet, I finally hear that horrid whiny humming sound that I've come to despise over the course of my mosquito-infested life, and I see the culprit land on the sleeve of one of my shirts.  Ahh hahaha.  Gotcha.  If I've learned anything in all of my tormented years of being attacked by these blood-sucking, disease-carrying monsters, it's how to exact my revenge.  I may lose the battle -- my scar-laden arms and legs will prove that more often than not, this is the case -- but I rarely lose the war.  After many years of practice, my clap-and-kill method is deadly accurate.  It still makes me mad when they already have blood in them, though.  Grosser still is the thought that it might not even be mine.  ICK.  Not a good thought path for a public health person to go down...

Bottom line: Someone, please, tell me ONE good purpose that these flying demons serve.  Anyone?  Do I know any entomologists?  They don't pollinate anything.  They don't eat any other bug that's bad.  They aren't anything's sole source of food.  They do nothing but spread multiple deadly diseases (i.e., yellow fever, malaria, dengue fever, West Nile virus, Japanese encephalitis.  I could go on...) and make people itch.  Oh.  And they nearly killed my dog.  My sweet, beautiful Gracie Pup.  Yes, that's right.  Heartworms come from mosquitoes too.  RUDE.

But I refuse to let them win.  So today, rather than focusing on all of the toxic, draining CNN/Palestine/Troy Davis/Somali famine/Fed rate drama & sadness (and evil mosquitoes), I'm choosing to ponder the delightful idea of the squealing pre-school class playing with fuzzy, squirming puppies.  It doesn't change anything, of course, but sometimes you just have to choose to dwell on happy thoughts.  So here's to pre-schoolers and puppies!  May their shrieks and giggles and yelps and snores drown out some of the talking head-yapping and politician-bickering, at least for today...

Faith: 1, Mosquito: 0
I may be covered in bites for now, but I told you I always win in the end!