The mosquitoes in Nova Scotia adore me. I can assure you that their love is unrequited.
The bites I got yesterday are now red welts two inches in diameter. And they are I. T. C. H. Y.
Every time I turn around I find more bites: forehead, wrist, forearm, elbow, knee, calf, and an almost intimate part of my thigh (how the wee bloodthirsty bastard got up there in the first place is beyond me). You’d think I’d done nothing but hang out near stagnant water since I arrived.
On a positive note I am becoming quite adept at violently squashing the little #@!%ers mid-flight.