I've told my wife, "I'm allergic to mosquitoes." She says, "Everyone is allergic to mosquites. That's how it works."
Unlike most everyone else though I get nickel to quarter sized welts that don't go away for a few days and if I'm bitten by too many of them at a time I start to feel queasy. Sounds like an allergic reaction to me.
My wife is a wonderful woman with a sweet disposition in general, but there are occassional moments when I'm glad that my fate doesn't rest entirely in her hands. She has a theory about mosquito bites and my reaction to them.
My wife believes that I simply need to go let myself be bitten many many many times and then I'll build up a resistance to mosquitos and they won't bother me anymore. She says that this worked for her on a trip to the Boundary Waters some years ago. I'm not sure this is a terribly scientific theory and I'm certainly not about to put it to the test.
Unfortunately, given my aversion to mosquitoes, I had to change the porchlight on our side door the other night and it's high season for mosquitoes here in Minnesota.
Okay, I probably could have waited until the next day to do it, but it had occurred to me just then that I'd repeatedly been forgetting to do it. I wanted to do it while it was fresh on my mind.
It was warm so I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Getting to the light meant standing on a ladder. Getting the light put back together after putting in a new bulb was a two a handed job.
Can you see where this is going?
The mosquito population had a brief but very easy feast on my unprotected flesh because I couldn't swat them away or it'd drop the pieces of the light fixture and break them. (I actually did drop and badly chip one.)
By the time I got off the ladder I was cursing a blue streak and running for a bottle of Benadryl to smear on my arms and legs.
At moments like that I pause to wonder why I'm in this state (whose state bird is the mosquito)?
But then I remember that I married the cute graduate student...
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