We always say "the mosquitoes are bad tonight," but never "the mosquitoes are good." That sounds like they're helping out with the chores — or at least saying please and thank you. It's either "bad" or there aren't any.
Because we have reached that time of year when the bugs are engaged in their annual evening-ruination maneuvers, I went to the store for some spray. It comes in two scents: "Breeze Off the Superfund Toxic Waste Site" and "Personal Wipes." It works, but you have to keep spraying, and if you miss a half-inch of your ankle, that's exactly where the skeeter goes. Tomahawk missiles aren't that accurate.
At the Cub I saw a display for scented anti-skeeter candles. One scent was "S'mores," but one sniff told me I would want s'less. There was Pine scent, in case the skeeters came back at Christmas, and Campfire. That's the one I got. You know how your sweater smells in the fall after you've been around a bonfire? It's like that, except it smells like you burned the sweater.
The candle, as far as I can tell, is effective if you perform the following acts exactly as I describe: 1. Light wick 2. Place candle on lap 3. Dip shirttail into the flame 4. Sit still until totally engulfed in fire. Otherwise, it doesn't do much.
Ah-ha, here's something new: an ultrasound device that emits a sound mosquitoes can't stand. What, a Justin Bieber song? No, it's a faint, high whine. It's like a tinnitus simulator.
I strapped it on my wrist, turned it on, and waited. Aaaaamaaazing. No mosquito bites at all. Well, now let's try it outside.
By the way, when I turned it on, I wasn't thinking about the dog on the floor. From his reaction, I apparently had activated the Canine Emergency Broadcast System. "This is a test, Scout. This is only a test. OK, I'll get a mop."
Here is my report on using the device at dusk:
