This past week, while home on a bit of a surprise vacation, I took the time to get some sewing projects done that I can’t really do back at my apartment. I was busily working one evening, finding I needed to pause periodically to swat at mosquitoes that seemed to piggy back into the house on mom, who was out working in the flowerbeds trying to wrestle control back from the overgrown plants. She apparently was going in and out of the house a lot, for what reason I do not know. It was easy to tell when she had walked inside, for the mosquito ration indoors would increase.
Dad, of course, could not help himself but comment when he came into the kitchen to get some water. Dramatically swinging and swatting, I could hear him muttering to himself in the kitchen as he both fought mosquitoes and got a glass out of the cupboard. I kept on sewing.
About an hour later, he popped his head into the room where I was working. It had become nearly dark and since the air was still, I imagine the mosquitoes were voracious outside.
“Is she still outside?” I nodded yes. “You need to tell your mother to get in the house before she gets West Nile,” he grumped.
I went to the door, and popped me head outside. “You’re supposed to get in the house, before you get West Nile.”
She eventually complied.
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