All it takes is one. One tiny,
whiny, dive-bombing mosquito aiming for my ear in the dead of night. An insect so miniscule that its mass barely
registers as there at all can reduce
my 120 lbs to a sleepless, irritable mockery of my usual self.
I thrash about
in the dark (as if that’s going to scare it away). I try wrapping myself in the
sheet (good for approximately 10 seconds, until death by malaria, dengue fever
or chikungunya seems preferable to death by stifling heat).
I extricate myself
from the mosquito net, grab my flashlight, and search for holes. Aha! a
tiny rip! It might as well sport a neon sign: ENTER HERE, All Ye Who Come to Suck Blood! I scrunch the netting around the hole, pull it
into a cord and tie off the hole with a satisfied flourish. Done.
I tuck the netting back under the mattress
with great care and collapse back onto the bed, only to hear that same
maddening buzz. I realize that I have sealed the mosquito inside with me.
Aaargh. We begin again, Goliath v. David.
It promises to be a long night here in Haiti.