I am very lucky to live in a house with few creepy-crawlies of the "Oh-my-god-get-it-away-from-me" kind. I do have some four-legged, furry versions who are snuggly and sweet and lovely and, well, a bit eccentric, but endearing in their eccentricities.
However, after saying that, I've probably spoken too soon and, as we speak, the Cockroach Circus are trailing their little cockroach-sized trailers down my driveway, setting up their cockroach-sized Big Top in one of my kitchen cupboards, while the bearded cockroach lady chats up the three-armed strongman cockroach behind the popcorn stand... I digress.
I am, however, blessed with mosquitoes. These are not any normal mosquitoes though. They are magnificently enormous mosquitoes. Like in rat-sized. Seriously. These things have been on steroids they bought illicitly at the gym since they were born. In fact, their mother's were on the steroids at the time of conception. They flap around my head (and it's breezy when they flap, being so huge and all - my hair blows around), flexing their little mosquito muscles, and singing. Boy, do these guys like to sing. At the tops of their little mosquito voices.
I think perhaps that they have chosen my bedroom as the perfect spot for choir practice. I can understand that - my room is cool and purple and quiet... Except for a rather disturbing buzz from the TV, when it's off. Hold on. Could that be it? They're not coming to choir practice, they're responding to the mating call of my very-much-off-TV. Good grief. There I was, worrying about the effects that buzz was having on my sleeping psyche (do psyche's sleep?) when, in fact, I should be worrying more about my causing hundreds of monstrously large mosquitoes sexual frustration. Poor things, buzzing around searching frantically for the gorgeous girl mosquito with the beautiful voice. But never finding her.
I wonder if I should switch it off at the wall?
