Out, Damn Spot!

Sunday, 8/24/2008

In Erbil, Sunday is the new Monday, as the weekend begins on Friday. So why am I awake at 4 in the morning? It all began last night, when I crawled into my beautiful pink bed after a nice, long cleansing shower and some evening sudoku (shape sudoku- man those are killer). I breathed a huge sigh of contentment as I snuggled under the cozy comforters and closed my eyes to the darkness of my room, when suddenly, a buzzing noise filled my left ear. 

“Oh HELL, no!” I yelled as I jumped up from my bed with bullet speed, “You are NOT going to eat me alive!”

But after a few minutes of sitting around uselessly with a makeshift mosquito swatter in hand, there was nothing I could do but crawl back into bed. I could not stay up all night trying to hunt down the little bloodsucking parasite. Tomorrow was the new Monday after all, and I had to get to work by 8 am. So I reluctantly crawled back into bed knowing full well what sort of consequences this act of capitulation would entail. A different sort of sigh escaped my lips then- a sigh of defeat and acceptance...the same sort of sigh that might have escaped the lips of the Son of God as he trudged up to Calvary ready to bear his cross.

The next thing I knew, I was being woken up by that same incessant buzzing noise in my left ear, except this time it was accompanied by a dull throbbing in my left hand and an itchy left foot and arm. I was so mad. As expected as these bites were, I couldn't help lying there fuming quietly in the dark, and unable to get back to sleep for fear of getting bitten again. I still had a good two hours of precious sleep left, so what was I supposed to do? I was bigger and stronger than the mosquito dammit. Filled with sudden determination, I marched out of bed, flipped on the light, and grabbed the makeshift mosquito-killer ready to kill. My keen hunter eyes scanned the room for any sign of movement and at last, I spotted it, a tiny evil black spot on the pure, white surface of my bedroom wall. I tiptoed over, slowly closing in on my prey, and after a moment of silence to gather up all the speed I had in me into my killing arm, I swatted the wall with a force that could have killed an elephant. 

THWACK! What a beautiful sound! I turned over the booklet and sure enough, it was smeared over in one corner with mosquito guts. 

“Yeeeah! That's what you get you little $#@%!@!” I yelled triumphantly. I could feel a bout of maniacal laughter bubbling up my throat and wanting to escape, but I suppressed it, knowing that while talking to a mosquito might be deemed slightly loony, a maniacal laughter would leave no doubt as to my lack of sanity. Nevertheless, the revenge was sweet. And gross. I made for the bathroom to de-gut my swatter, but as I was about to turn the bedroom doorknob, something black flew out of the green purse hanging from it. It was another mosquito!

I hate mosquitos. I hate flies. I hate the entire arthropoda phylum, and they can all die horrible deaths for all I care.