Skeeters n skwirrls

I don't care what the calendar says, it must be summer now.
It's official.
I've been bitten by a mosquito already.
I thought I might have a reprieve for another couple of weeks, but no.
Sitting in the dank fog at the ball park Thursday night covering a game, I felt a sudden twinge on my ankle.
Looking down, there it was. The evil blood sucker was partaking of my crimson nectar.
Yay, though, I triumphed and smote the infidel insect, leaving that disgusting black and red smear so familiar to anyone who spends an evening outdoors in the summer.
For the moment, oh so brief, I triumphed over nature.
Those times are so few.