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The end of summer means many things. Back to school. Light sweaters. Rosé is quietly dropped for heartier reds. And it is the last hurrah for the mosquito. Let us consider.
The etymology is Spanish. Mosca – fly. Ito – little. This “little fly” is an insect. The male is a vegetarian, eating only plants. Which is fine by me. But the female is a blood sucker. And that’s a red line.
The female needs blood to produce eggs. Almost any blood will do. She eats vertebrates and invertebrates alike. She can even, according to Wikipedia, eat fish. But – especially late summer – she wants to eat me. Which makes her my enemy.
But do NOT let the male off the hook. I won’t get too detailed because this is a family publication, but when a male mosquito loves a female mosquito very much, they mate. Then the female, after a little blood from an unsuspecting host(me), lays up to 100 eggs. The female – and I apologize for the graphic detail of this fact – can lay three batches of eggs from one mating. So, I say to heck with the male as well.
In my free time, I have dabbled with some thought experiments on total elimination of the species. Mosquito eggs live in water so what if they woke up one morning and no longer had a water source? Unfortunately, this planet is 71-percent water, so I abandoned that plan. Then I realized I don’t need to eliminate the whole species. If I can get just one sex out of the picture… Obviously, the path of least resistance involves eliminating the weaker, less intelligent sex. So, I target the male. But the only way I can attract a male mosquito is with the female. Sigh.
I’ve also considered avoidance. Knowing mosquitos are attracted to carbon dioxide, I contemplate, just during the summer months, a life without exhalation.
Inhale. Do not exhale. Inhale. Try not to explode.
Okay, I haven’t figured out a way to pull that off yet, but a guy can dream, can’t he?
Though I have not made any real strides toward avoidance or elimination, I still want to help. Thus, I made a short list: The Worst Places to Get a Mosquito Bite. I have set aside the nudist colonies because I assume they get what they deserve. But the rest of us do not live in hazmat suits so we assume great risk every day. There are many places you don’t want to be bit by a mosquito. They range from pitiful to miserable to abysmal. This is my list.
The worst places to get a mosquito bite
The Elbow: You might think your elbow is pretty sturdy aside from that whole funny bone thing. It’s stretchy and, at least on me, drier. Not many nerves are in there, one assumes. But one mosquito bite and Oh Baby! The problem, I’ve decided, is with the bend. Bending your elbow is like almost scratching which is way worse than either scratching or not scratching. So, you try to not bend your arm which works great for about five seconds until you want to do anything in your life?! Oh, sweet, sad little elbow. I promise to love you more when this is over.
The Ear: I’ve heard the ear is mostly cartilage. Cultures literally poke a hole through babies’ ears and no one seems to bat an eye. But if a grown up gets a mosquito bite in the exact same place – or worse, on the back of your ear… Stand back and make room for the itch. So, what to do? The CDC recommends “not scratching your bites because they can become infected” but I don’t think the organization fully grasps what an itch is. “Scratching an itch” is literally a metaphor for… well, I’ll write them a letter, I guess.
The Achilles Heel: If the hero of the Trojan War can be brought down with one arrow, how do you think you’ll fare? A mosquito bite to the heel might bring you to your knees. It’s not the physical pain so much as just the mental anguish that cripples. You quickly put your shoes back on only to realize they rub against the bite. So, you take your shoes off again and realize you’re now vulnerable again. So, you put them back on again. Sigh. There is only one way forward. You must suffer like the tragedy that is Greek.
The Hand: Maybe you think your hand is sturdy? You’ve got calluses from life, huh? But the reality is, there simply is no good place for a mosquito bite on your hand. The palm is terrible. For some reason it throbs. That opposable thumb you like so much is always bending so it’s itch party. Any knuckle of any finger is like a slow, dull torture because the area is both bendy and itchy. In fact, the back of my hand that I’m supposed to know so well is a miserable spot for a bite. But…
The God-awful worst of the worst place to get a mosquito bite is your fingertip. My finger is tough, you say, I still hunt and peck on my keyboard. Did you know your fingertip is so sensitive that a single ridge of your fingerprint can feel vibration, pressure, and – the thing I’m talking about here – pain!? Also, there’s a superhighway from that fingertip to your brain that is part of that whole survival thing: That fire is hot. That water is wet. I poked a bear.
Want to know how sensitive to pain your fingertip is? Remember that sliver that got under your fingernail? (This year I got a fishbone under there?!) Remember that time you lost your fingernail? That’s your fingertip, tough guy. A mosquito bite there is in my completely unprofessional opinion: THE ABSOLUTE WORST!
It’s the end of summer. School is a privilege, light sweaters a necessity, try a softer red, like a Malbec (it’s too early for Cabernet) – but give the mosquitos a miss, if you can! I don’t mean to be Machiavellian about it but by any means necessary! Bob and weave. Duck then jump. Study Inspector Clouseau’s karate chop. Float like a butterfly – and keep on floating till trouble passes is something I think Muhammad Ali might have said if anyone bothered to ask him about mosquitos. And, as I remember, he was pretty darn tough.
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