This is a story about mosquitoes and hubris.
I really dislike mosquitoes. I know that they are pollinators and thus play an important part in the global food chain, but there are some days when I wish they would go extinct. Or at least leave me alone.
I am absolutely delicious to mosquitoes. And apparently I am a massive mosquito magnet because in the summer if I step outside of the safety of our screened porch late afternoon to evening, they find me quickly. The current record is just under 30 seconds.
(Yes, I know about eliminating sources of standing water; we think they are coming from the neighbors’ yards.)
My husband, on the other hand, is more or less unappetizing to mosquitoes and it takes them much longer to find him and decide to stop for a meal.
When we travel, certain locations mean that we pack plenty of mosquito repellent and, if necessary, antimalarial medications. For example, South Africa. And most definitely in Namibia and Botswana in 2019, which is where and when this story takes place.
Mosquitoes were most active at dusk and beyond and not really a problem during the day. This was important to know for dinner, as most of the time this was cooked on a grill and portable cooktops next to our truck, where we all would eat and talk.
Before dinner every evening, my husband and I pulled out the mosquito spray and got to work covering ourselves. I also wore long layers to cover as much of my skin as possible, which kept me remarkably bite-free throughout the trip.
My husband, however, is known for wearing shorts pretty much all 12 months of the year, regardless of the weather. And of course he adores his cargo shorts. (The pockets!)
(I am not mocking him because I truly do appreciate an excellent pocket situation.)
One evening I watched him spray his legs from his ankles to just above his knees and then stop there. I asked him why he wasn’t covering his thighs too and he said his many-pocketed shorts covered his thighs. Yes, I said, they do but those shorts are loose and baggy and won’t keep mosquitoes out. He disagreed and since he is a grown-ass adult, I shrugged and went about my business.
You can guess what happened, right?
While we were sitting around the fire after dinner, I noticed my husband slapping at his legs and scratching his thighs. As soon as everyone finished packing away the tables and chairs and washing the dishes, my guy hustled off to our room in the lodge. When I got inside, he had taken off his shorts and was investigating dozens of bites all over his thighs.
DOZENS, Y’ALL.
Luckily, our first aid kit had a fresh supply of hydrocortisone and other medications. After slathering himself with the former and taking an antihistamine, he was able to sleep that night without too much discomfort. After a few days, the itching stopped and all was well.
The lesson from this, of course, is that mosquitoes will definitely fly up one’s shorts and take advantage of a gourmet meal of Blood a la Middle-Aged Man.
Lol! Love that lesson! At a certain point in the year (coming up soon) Doug and I change from shorts and t-shirts to long sleeve shirts with a collar, long pants, and a hat sprayed with natural mosquito repellent when we are outside. We look like we are on safari!
Ha!! I am, like you, especially delicious mosquito bait. I still have scarring on my legs from being a buffet one day last month after believing my dh that there were "no mosquitos out."
I've considered purchasing men's cargo shorts for the pockets.