There have been shit tons of mosquitoes in our apartment lately. We never open the windows and we have a screen door, but they still manage to get in somehow.
We have a mosquito racket, which is a lovely device that looks like a tennis racket, but you press a button and the mesh part becomes electric. So you swipe at a mosquito, there’s a satisfying snapping sound, and the mosquito is dead. Electrocuted, I suppose. They get no sympathy from me.
For some reason the mosquitoes seem to prefer our bedroom over all the other rooms. Luckily we have a net over our bed and M’s sleeper, but sometimes they get under the net. Those nights are the worst.
Before we go to bed every night, we shake all the bedding, curtains, and drapes, and that usually rouses the nasty buggers. One of us stands there with the racket, waving it all over the room, while the other anxiously points at the mosquitoes, shrieking “There it is! Get it!” (I should note that Nate doesn’t shriek. That’s primarily me.)
But the mosquitoes are so darn fast, they can be almost invisible. So there’s a lot of frantic racket waving, pointing and yelling. It’s quite the sight, I’m sure. You know the night has been a success when the smell of burnt mosquito lingers in the air.
Luckily these aren’t Aedes moquitoes, so they won’t give us dengue. But they’re still annoying. Thank goodness M hasn’t figured out how to itch mosquito bites yet.
Haha, I just got up to get something from the bedroom, and I killed another mosquito.
I never thought I’d say this, but I’m looking forward to the intolerably hot summer months just because it seemed like there weren’t as many mosquitoes then.