Unfortunately, I slept with mosquitoes. Hey, it’s better than a horse’s head.
Now that it’s summertime weather in San Francisco, I had to open the 1932 oversize, unscreened windows of the manse, lest we – and it – explode from the heat. ‘Natch, that acts as a gigantic “Welcome!” sign to the many, many skeetos that swarm around our neighborhood.
I counted at least ten bites on my left arm alone as I trotted Theo out for his third or fourth night walk.
The single positive comment I can muster is that either these are buzzless biters or my hearing cannot detect their presence.
I did the only thing I could think of to distract myself from the itchiness: I belted down some Limoncello from the freezer and a handful of Advil. Off to dreamland, only to awaken to my six legged bedmates.