There it is! I slap my face again. That high-pitched hum is whirring above my head like a diamond blade cutting through concrete. I dread this blood-sucking prelude before the villain swoops in like a kamikaze pilot to attack my flesh with its furry needle face.

I hate mosquitos with a passion and I’m tired of sleeping with them.

Last night I went to bed at 10:00 p.m. but didn’t fall sleep until hours later. Each time I was about to doze off, that high-pitched whirring caused me to bolt out of bed in a murderous search. Waiting for my eyes to adjust, I would grab my Made in Germany bug swatter the size of a tennis racket and start hunting the bastards. I did this 10 times last night and I’m exhausted.




On hot summer days like these, this is a nightly ritual. Today my neck is all tweaked (whiplash from bolting up too quickly). I’m loaded with itchy red bites and I feel like a saggy balloon three days after a party.

It’s mid-morning and after I write this, I’m going to take a nap, even though it’s 80 and sunny and I should be swimming at the lake.

Closing the window is not an option. It’s too damn hot. In America, not only do we have window screens, we have air conditioners. The Germans disdain air conditioners—even fans. (they’re unhealthy). They’d rather be eaten alive all night by flying predators and woven into a furry cocoon by man-eating spiders. Whatever. They toss and turn in their feather beds (yes, even in summer) like sausages rotating on a grill—all hot and greasy at sunrise. No wonder they have to air out their beds from the windows every morning.

And they’re smart these new 2.0 genetically-modified killers. They are faster, more cunning, thirsting for blood and harder to swat. They see you when you’re sleeping, they know when you’re awake and about to strike. Mosquitos in my childhood were clunky and slow, big and easy to conquer like an old Chevy. Those days are over.

One night I got so desperate that I sprayed bug dope all over myself. That was stupid. Not a nice bedtime fragrance and it was very sticky. I had to wash all my bedding. The only other weapon against them is cancer-causing poisons that you plug-into the room outlets. Oh yeah, sign me up.

photo3For a high-tech nation, you’d think low-tech window screens would be a No-Brainer. With more engineers and manufacturers than any other country, I don’t get it. I ask everyone I know why there aren’t any screens and get only blank stares. Empty robotic looks. They never thought of it.

For a nation also obsessed with cleanliness, I’m equally baffled. As a side note, before leaving on vacation, my neighbor reminded me to sweep the road in front of our house. Yeah right, when monkeys fly out of my posterior. Before she comes home, I’ll sweep the leaves and dirt to the other side of the road. 

Take two: For a nation obsessed with order, why would Germans install windows without screens. Do you know how many spiders, flies, moths, ants, birds, bats, and other winged vermin come into the house? It defies logic. I hate killing spiders, but there comes a point when I don’t dare approach the huge hairy monstrosities without my long-necked Miele vacuum cleaner. It’s worse than summer camp.