Flee....
Flee Fly...
Flee Fly Flo.....

So yesterday I go home after work and I get this bright idea that it is time to wash my car again. And since all my work out clothes are on their last workout prior to serious laundering, I decide to wash my car in my work out clothes. Now, I live out in the woods in a mountain house apartment. There is beautiful brush everywhere and the babbling of a brook in the background because the road parrallels McClure Creek that flows off of Tray Mountain. I am so proud of myself to wash my car because although normal people think of things like this, it has only just recently occured to me that washing my car is part of taking care of myself. I go out with my mixed matched socks and dawn down to the hose. I hook up the hose and begin to fill the bucket, when I realize that I am standing amidst fifty gozillion mosquitoes. My little pail legs are slowly turning bright red with one uniform bite. I think the mosquitoes are in a union. I dropped the hose and with three or four swats I kill hundreds. They seemed to pause and be swayed not to act, however, as I go over to the car and am working away, I realize they have found a new plan of attack. So I washed my car, went to battle with the buggers and then went walking. All I could think was that Mom used to tell me not to scratch because that would make it worse. So I walked. I only walked for a mile and a half, the bugger wars had exhausted me. So I quickly rolled up the hose and headed for the shower. Somehow the hot water made the itchiness stop, however my legs were covered in battle scars. I hate mosquitoes. I don't know how I forgot that I lived next to a creek (well it is almost a river with all of this rain!). Hurray for pay day and Walmart that stocks 'OFF'. Next time I will have a new plan of attack too, silly bugs. VISTA!!