Why you should trust your instincts
Posted by Lissa on August 11, 2009
Especially if you carry a big purse and it will cost you NOTHING to do so.
So, last Friday my sister and L invited Mike and me out to dinner by the bay. I remembered to grab my blazer, as it tends to get cool pretty quickly when the sun goes down. I gave my makeup a last check and left the bathroom, pausing to glance down at the Crocs bag I carried to the bloggershoot.
Nah, don’t be silly, I told myself. You don’t need the Off. It really isn’t buggy around here, you’ll be in the middle of lots of people, and you have the Skin-So-Soft lotion in your purse if you really need bug repellent.
STUPID. Stupid stupid stupid.
The first inkling of trouble came when I was trying to identify flavors in my flight of mini-martinis. As I tilted my head to read the drink descriptions, my sister abruptly head-smacked me. Hard.
“Ow!” I complained, utterly confused.
“Omigod, there was a mosquito landing on your head, sorry!” she clarified, looking horrified. Girl’s got good reflexes . . . . too good. She saw the big fat bug about to suck my blood and smacked it instinctively, as quickly as she could. Far too quickly to, you know, be gentle about it.
After we managed to stop laughing — which took a while! — I excused myself and ran to the Ladies’ room for anointing. I briskly rubbed S-S-S lotion into my arms, my legs, my face, and combed it through my hair. I even remembered to wash my hands afterward so my lobster wouldn’t taste of scented lotion.
Thirty minutes later I was spasmodically twitching in my seat like I was getting electric shocks. I had a bite on my forearm (through my jacket), a bite on the underside of my thigh (through my skirt), and a bite on the sole of my foot. Naturally, no one else at my table — hell, in the entire restaurant — had any bloodsucker trouble whatsoever.
Why, o why, didn’t I throw the Off in my bag? You’ve seen my purse, it’s large enough to smuggle puppies and small children. It would have cost me nothing to bring it with me. So why didn’t I?
Simple. I’m an idiot.
On the upside, Mike looks awfully cute in a lobster bib:
P.S. Before Jenny called to invite us, we stopped at a trendy little restaurant in Boston to have an after-work drink and some hors d’oeuvres. (There are advantages to being DINK!) I couldn’t get over the silverware — it was über-trendy, long, and slender. It was also inefficient for spreading pesto. And the knife completely looked like a murder weapon in the making.
What a strange thing to find in Boston, the land of the safety laws!