An ode to mossies
O! mosquito! How I hate thee! How I hate thy whine The shrillness of which hurts mine ear And disturbs mine sleep. O! Mossie! Why dost thou bite me even though I am covered in Aeroguard so heavily I cannot stand mine own stench? How dost thou find me despite the obscuring odour? What is thy fascination with finding the edge of my shoe or sock and biting me there? How I detest thy bite which raises lumps the size of 10 cent pieces or larger than american quarters or 10p bits if you are English. Lumps that have interesting contours and follow my lymph, or my blood vessels, take your choice. How I wish my dear father in law were here, for you love him even more than you love me, and you would bite him and cause him much itchiness. Better him than me. How I hate thee, mossie. Go and find someone else's flesh to bite and procure blood for your horde of eggs and new mossies. Dear husband, hand me my antihistamines and cortisone cream so that I may no longer scratch. If I am lucky. Ah.....