Magnet

Have you heard the term “mosquito magnet”?  I have the misfortune of being one.  In a crowd, the miniature vampires ignore everyone else and seek me out as a choice meal.  Being bitten is bad, but they also find other ways to make me miserable.

I have written on my disdain for flies and having them land on me.  Who knows what filth they were in before alighting on my skin?  I don’t have the same type of aversion to mosquitoes, but I still don’t want to be bitten.  If one lands on me while I’m outside, I can brush it away, use my alcohol hand sanitizer, and feel okay.  But if it’s in my house (where one would think I’d feel safer), I worry that it may have been resting on an object in the house that I am unable to keep sanitized.  That includes the walls.  How am I supposed to disinfect walls?  I know this is unreasonable when I think about the size of a mosquito’s legs.  Their footprints, so to speak, are practically microscopic.  Yet it bothers me.

Not long ago, a mosquito managed to gain entry to the house.  I hate seeing them because they are so elusive, and I cannot rest comfortably knowing that there is one lurking about.  I saw it only once or twice that evening, and then the tiny escape artist went into hiding.  I couldn’t be at ease in my chair because of concern that it would bite me.  I couldn’t stand in one spot without constantly shifting my legs and looking around for it.  My entire evening was disrupted by it.  Even if I suspect that there is one in hiding, I never have problems with them once I turn the fan on high and get in bed.  So, I slept peacefully, but I was up the next morning for only a few minutes when it made its first appearance.  I had to start the mosquito dance again, never staying still for a moment.  It kept coming at my head, but I couldn’t get it.  The only benefit of this was that I was moving as fast as I could to get ready for work and get out of the house, away from the little monster.  I was ahead of schedule when I went to the mirror to check my makeup.  There it was, smack-dab in the middle of my forehead!

My instinct was to wave it away, because I don’t want a smashed bug on my forehead or my hand.  It disappeared again.  I thought I was moving fast already, but then I kicked into high gear.  I considered using one wet wipe to clean off any germs from my forehead, but the more I thought about it, the more wipes I wanted to use.  I pulled eight of them out and rubbed them over my forehead.  This was another instance of a bug using up my time and money.  But I didn’t see it again before I left the house.

This is mosquito season, so that was not the last one I saw.  Earlier this week, I once again had a winged visitor while in my room.  It was another restless evening for me, doing the shuffle to avoid the mosquito.  It was a similar pattern, in that I saw it only briefly a couple of times, but it was enough to leave me unsettled.  I saw it shortly before I headed for the shower, and I wished that I could have squashed it so that it wouldn’t have the chance to ruin my cleanliness after getting out.  After the shower, it seemed like a good idea to wave my arms around on my way back to the bedroom to prevent it from landing on me.  I reached the doorway, and bam!  My hand smacked into the wall.  The mosquito hadn’t landed on me, but I got something worse.  With my clean hand now contaminated, I had to march back to the bathroom and do a super-wash of my hands and arms.  There went more time and money down the drain.

I usually don’t like cold weather, but winter sounds appealing right now!

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Have Baggie – Will Travel

It was a sultry day, and I was in my car.  I had many places to go, but I was hit with pangs of hunger.  Chinese fast food struck my fancy that day.  After picking up my food, I found myself in the car without an eating utensil.  Or did I?

It’s not as though I didn’t have the opportunity to get a fork or spoon at the restaurant, but they weren’t wrapped.  They were all out in the open, loose and picked over.  That was not an option for me.  I checked my to-go bag to see if a utensil had been placed inside, but there was nothing.  As I drove to my next destination, I thought of my options.  I could drive through another fast food restaurant and order a small side dish that they would give me a spoon for.  Or I could search the storage boxes in my car for a spoon.  I didn’t want to go to another restaurant; that was ruled out.  Before running my next errand, I wanted to eat, so I found a shady spot to stop in a parking lot.  I was going to start searching for a spoon, when I spotted something that changed my mind.

The lowly sandwich bag:  I have waxed poetic about its attributes.  Or maybe I haven’t.  But references to the tiny, plastic bag with the folding top dot my stories.  I have come to rely on them to the point that I feel panicked when I am close to running out or I don’t have any with me when I’m away from home.  All is not a bed or roses because of them.  At times they are friends; at other times, foes.  But my appreciation for the baggie was renewed on this occasion, when it became my latest method of eating.

It’s true.  Rather than make a lengthy, and perhaps futile, attempt at finding a utensil somewhere in the car, I took a baggie, turned it inside out to ensure that I was using a clean surface, and chowed down!  It actually worked out better than using a spoon, because I was eating pieces of chicken with vegetables.  Those morsels would have been difficult to balance on a spoon, but they were turned into finger food with the baggie!  It worked so well, it might be my method of choice in the future.  Of course, it wouldn’t work as well with rice or noodles, but it is perfect for any food that can be picked up with the fingers.

As I said, there are times when the baggie feels more like a foe than a helper.  When I’m using them as pseudo-gloves, the flaps are notorious for bending or folding when I don’t want them to.  If it happens while I have one on my hand, it means that it ends up contaminating my hand rather than protecting it.  But, all in all, they make my life easier and get me out of jams.

Long live the baggie!

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Slippery Slipper

It was time again for one of the most dreaded tasks:  taking my car to the mechanic for maintenance.  Not only is sanitizing my car afterwards one of the most daunting cleaning jobs that I have to do, I risk …
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The Anti-Soap

What’s better?  A liquid soap pump or a bar of soap?  It’s the great germophobe debate.  Actually, I have no idea how opinionated other germophobes are on this issue, as I don’t personally know many others.  I formed an opinion …
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Momentary Lapse

Some weeks seem longer than others, and the seven-day period doesn’t have to be a calendar week.  The workplace carpet cleaning nightmare started on a Thursday and lasted well into the next calendar week.  The stress of it really threw …
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Aftermath

Last week I wrote about the ordeal that occurred because of the carpets in my workplace undergoing a much-needed cleaning.  Or rather, the calamity befell me the day before the scheduled cleaning when the janitor pulled up the mat off …
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Carpet Catastrophe

I heard the rumor a few weeks ago.  The carpets at the office were going to be cleaned.  And goodness knows they needed it, with all the unsightly spots and stains.  But no good could come from it for me.  …
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The Reenactment

I saw an episode of I Love Lucy not long ago.  The Ricardos and the Mertzes had a disagreement that ended up in the courtroom.  To get to the bottom of the incident that caused the dispute, they had to …
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Nature Hater

The elements are not my friend.  And after events this week, I’m forced to conclude that nature, in general, has it in for me. The wind can be a powerful enemy of mine, and it didn’t disappoint me in this …
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Trackball Trauma

Do you use a traditional mouse or a trackball with your computer?  Maybe you have a laptop and you use a touchpad.  Of the three, the touchpad is the safest:  It can’t move around or be pulled off a desk.  …
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