Death of 1000 bites

Monsoon season seems to be running a tad long this year in southern Arizona, as is evidenced by the hordes of mosquitoes that were in my tent the other night at an SCA event. Thank the Gods the event was just forty-five minutes from home, and thank the Gods that I’ve somehow managed to maintain my sanity despite the itching on over about 75% of my body.

It started with just a couple of bites. Okay, fine. No big deal.

Then I went to bed in our tent.

A couple of bites turned into half a dozen. Half a dozen turned into a dozen. I tried covering up with my sleeping bag but, as is common in early September in southern Arizona, it was too damn hot to cover up. So I’d put out a foot or an arm or my head to cool off a bit and almost immediately get attacked again.

This went on for a couple of hours before my husband returned to the tent from hanging with friends and declared he was taking me home for the night.

I didn’t complain. By that point, I had a good twenty mosquito bites spread out over most of my body.

Once home, a hot shower, Benadryl, and some hydrocortisone cream helped, but I still itched. At least I wasn’t getting fresh bites, though.

I can’t say the same about the second day of the event.

Despite wearing long pants and long sleeves, I somehow managed to receive another twenty-something bites the second day of the event. On my shoulders. Under my bra. Between my toes. On my fucking ass. 

I’m trying not to scratch; I really am. Sometimes, though, I find myself scratching without realizing when I started to.

My Benadryl supply is running short. I should probably take more now that I’m up, but I fear that with my luck I’d use the last dose and promptly get stung by a bee. That’s the way it works, right? Murphy and his stupid law.

Sadly, though there is a rapier tournament later today, I don’t think I’m going back to the final day of the event–75% might turn into 95%, especially if I’m all sweaty from fighting in the heat. Those little flying fuckers really love sweat. 

Oh well. Staying home means I can write or embroider or something. I have a project for His Majesty of Atenveldt that is nearing completion–well, the first part of the project is nearing completion. There is another piece I need to get from the artisan who is making the garment (my potential future Laurel), plus some pieces for Her Majesty that also need embroidery.

Speaking of which, I should probably get to finishing the second cuff while I’m thinking about it.

Just can’t be scratching my bites with the needle.