Mosquitos Galore

There are many things that I sacrifice for my dog. For one, I wake up at the crack of dawn, when I hear her scratching at her crate door in the livingroom, itching to get out to either pee or just to be a spoiled brat and continue sleeping by our bed in our air-conditioned bedroom. I am also very dedicated to her exercise regime, rousing myself in the DEAD HEAT of Tokyo summer to go for long walks twice a day, once during mid-morning and once during early evening. When I come home from our walks in the mornings, I am usually soaked in sweat and dirt, exahusted by the heat, and must take a shower before going on with the rest of my day. Anyone who knows me well knows that I DETEST hot, humid weather, but I put myself out there because I understand that dogs, especially hyperactive ones like Azuki, needs to get out regularly to walk and explore new smells. It's a major commitment of my time and energy, but I prefer to suck it up and do it as oppose to have her bounce off the walls at home. A tired dog, as the saying goes, is a well-behaved dog. I cannot agree with that more.

But the one sacrifice that I did not expect to make is TO HAVE MY FLESH EATEN ALIVE BY MOSQUITOS while I am out there. I have taken to cover myself completely with insect repellent, but I ususally still manage to get at least 2 bites per day. That means at any given time, I am itchy and uncomfortable with big, red, FLAMMING bites on my body. Not only is supremely uncomfortable, it is also very unattractive.

Whenever I complain to Matt about this, he smugly reminds me that he never gets bitten. Why he would tell me that while my body suffers through bouts of itch mania is beyond me, but I think there must be a little footnote in that marriage contract (it was in Japanese, so who the heck knows what it actually said) which denotes "When the spouse suffers, smirk and make a sarcastic remark about her suffering." This is in stark contrast to when we were merely dating, when if I ever pouted about anything (and I pout a lot), I surely would have gotten a "awww...poor baby!" and a few pats on the head. Okay, I didn't mean to overshare to induce vomit, but people often ask me if married life is different from just dating or living in sin. I would say that your everyday life does not change, but one major difference is the lost of sympathy from and for your partner. If your partner suffers from something totally embarassing, like passing gas loudly in public, instead of pretending that you didn't hear anything and go on to make meaningless conversation to save the other person from utter humiliation, you would just roll over onto the ground, laughing, pointing, and stating the obvious. Hyperventilating at the same time. Ah, the joy of holy matrimony.

Anyhoo, it is actually true that Matt never gets mosquito trouble. Even when he gets that rare bite, it disappears by the end of the day, as if his body ABSORBS it because he has some sort of special anti-bug immune system going on. He attributes his special mutant X-like ability to fend off bugs that suck your blood to growing up and constantly outside playing in the outbacks of Hawaii, which I guess would make him more in tune with mother nature.

Well, I am not so lucky to have THE FORCE be with me. One day I took Azuki out to the park at 11am, not protecting myself thinking that it is still too early for mosquitos to be out. Boy, was I wrong. While I was outside, one mosquito came at me with a vengence, a hatred so deep that left me wondering if I had perhaps squashed its mother in the previous day. I felt uncontrollable urges to scratch both of my entire legs. When I looked down, I saw that the mosquito had bitten me several times, and was in the process of working on aother. I tried swapping away, but it always evaded my hand and ended up on another part of my body.

When I came home, I counted, and ended up with 10 mosquito bites in total. Not 1, not 5, but 10. Each one was scarlet red, swelling, and all in the process of expansion. The itch was so bad, I momentarily believed that I need to either amputate my legs or get rid of the dog, because 1) I am dramatic and 2)of course, it was all the dog's fault. Well, when I came to my senses, I did neither, but decided to apply some old-fashioned tiger balm that I bought in China town combined with some aloe vera to relieve the symptons.

My little East meets West concoction worked well, but it was still not a pretty sight. I took a photo of my leg just to prove that IT REALLY WAS THAT BAD. The picture doesn't do the actual condition justice because it only shows one leg.

Go ahead, say it with me. DAMN.