Skeeter Syndrome

On Tuesday, I was forced to do laundry at the ghetto south side laundromat in Fort Atkinson. (The other one closes at 9 PM, so I had to take all my wet clothes somewhere else. Assholes.) This is the place that has gum stuck in at least 20 percent of the dryers. Blotched carpet from spilled detergent. Sticky seats from pudgy, unsupervised, Kool-Aid-drinking kids. Shredded magazines from November 2003. The place was empty except a running dryer from someone who stepped out, so I had the place to myself. So I thought...

I threw my laundry into a dryer, turned on the Brew Crew and started reading my T.R. biography, when I felt a sting on my left thigh. Then, my right thigh. Then, buzzing close to my right forearm, I saw it; the size of my thumbnail. A mosquito.

Sometimes it takes me awhile to realize things about myself. For instance, I have skis for feet. I'm abnormally short. I snore really loud. I forget things alot. Giving blood makes me pass out. And, I'm severely allergic to mosquitoes.
Until about two years ago, I thought my scratching reaction to mosquito bites was normal. Now I've realized, I might suffer from "Skeeter Syndrome."Whenever I have a bug bite, my immune system goes nuts.

I slapped down on my arm and smeared the sucker all over that sticky bench. It drew blood, but I won! But then -- I immediately started scratching my wounds.

Three days later, and I still have welts the size of half dollars on my legs. It takes all my willpower not to scratch, and I don't. But they're still red, swollen, and all around disgusting battle wounds.

West Nile doesn't concern me. And really, I don't think contracting malaria will be a problem, because I'm not living in the thick jungles of Africa.

I thought by now, bug bites wouldn't phase me. After all, when I was a kid I'd be stuck on some remote lake in Sturgeon Bay with my grandparents every summer. I've probably been bit by thousands of mosquitoes. Shouldn't I be immune by now?