I might well be not-that-bright, after all

It's been a funny old morning really. I woke up having seemingly lost the ability to string a sentence together. Or, at least, unable to think of the words to put in said sentences. The Pond was kindly taking me to work as my car is going in to have it's insides checked out (it seems to be leaving a puddle of something on the driveway and it's way too young to just be incontinence). Anyway, we are quite talkative, The Pond and I but, at one stage I actually just had to keep quiet because I was trying to tell a story about paste, as in 'that stuff you use to brush your teeth with' but I couldn't find the word. Very strange.

Then, when I got into work and logged into Stalkbook for my daily fix of Scrabble moves, Stalkbook was talking to me in Afrikaans. All the links and everything. Now, while I am actually quite a fan of the lanuguage (who couldn't love a lanuguage where candy floss is called 'spookasem' which means 'ghost's breath'), it does seem a bit in-your-face of Stalkbook to just decide to do that, of it's own accord. It provided for some sniggering from me though (still being unable to string sentences together, I am limited to making noises, like sniggering, or grunting). My one friend became a fan of a band and, in Afrikaans, he's now going to be an 'aanhanger' of Sugardrive. Snigger. Literally translated, that means a 'hanger on'.

Good grief, and this post was supposed to be about those damned massive mosquitoes again. It's a funny story really. So I took everybody's advice about getting an anti-mosquito weapon. Putting some thought into it, I remembered that, in fact, I did own one of those pluggy-inny-anti-mosquito-poison-emitting-things. It was just a matter of finding it. So we rumbled around and looked in all the normal pluggy-inny-anti-mosquito-poison-emitting-things hidey holes, with no success. We even looked behind The Fridge (which, by the way was fixed on Monday but it still seems to not be getting terribly cold - I fear it might be getting to that age. You know the one. When The Fridge needs to be 'sent to The Farm').

To cut what could become an awfully long story short, we eventually looked in my bedside cupboard to find it snuggling cosily between a very old cellphone recharger and a Barbara Trapido book. It was lit up by the light behind me, like a ray of sunshine through the clouds and looked positively, well, heroic I guess.

So, on Sunday I dutifully went to sleep, safe in the knowledge that the massive mosquito family would happily buzz off elsewhere, leaving me at peace. But no, at approximately 2:03am (give or take a minute), I awoke to hear one, two, and then the whole blooming chorus. I swear I could hear them setting up the choir stands, drinking tea, breathing in the poison quite happily and chatting in their high little mosquito voices before practice. And then practice began. It sounded like they were doing a Beatles medley of sorts this time.

Monday I decided to persevere, thinking maybe it was just some freak anomoly on Sunday night, and if I tried again it would be better. No such luck. This time at about 1:24am (and please remember, it's full-moon-periodical-insomnia-time for me anyway right now). I spent the awake hours listening to them most productively wondering if I dressed up in a mosquito suit when sleeping, they'd leave me alone.

Then The BFF came over last night and I whinged at him about my problem (a sound, I'm sure, not unlike the mosquito choir). He picked up the offensive plug, looked at it, and said "You need to put a pad in it". Bugger. It's supposed to have the little poison-emitting pad in it. I was happily 'sleeping' with it, sans the poison. No wonder the massive mosquitoes weren't perturbed by it. Hmph. And... blush.

So, yes, a funny old morning. I wonder where I could find a massive mosquito suit to use as pyjamas?