Mosquito Magnet

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Ah, home sweet home after my vacation turned into a mosquito feeding frenzy! Let’s get one thing straight here. I. Am. NOT. A. Camper. My husband? He backpacks remote areas. So? I compromise and camp… with an RV and some of the amenities of home. Like a toilet. Am I prissy? YES! A toilet–and no a hole in the ground used by many does not count–is a MUST. Just to clarify, the no-hook-up situation was roughing it, for me.

Our vacation went down like this: We spent three nights in our RV–which is the only way to camp, in my opinion–and two nights in a cabin in Mammoth. Beautiful. Still air, clear skies, breathtaking views, and mosquitoes galore.

In an effort to keep me and Lovebug protected, something went wrong. Very wrong. Thankfully, she escaped the abuse, but me? It was something a bit reminiscent of The Birds. Alfred Hitchcock could’ve had a field day directing the horror that became of my body as I was attacked by a million mosquitoes. With what seems like 40 to 50 bites ALL over my body, there’d be no need for scary make-up because my face bore the brunt of it and the whole left side is swollen with the proof!

The crazy thing is the RVing portion of the trip wasn’t even where I suffered the most. It wasn’t until we reached the mountain cabin that my skin became a mosquito magnet for the little parasites. Now, I scratch my way through this post and hope that the swelling subsides before my lunch date Wednesday.

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