Bloody bothersome buggers

It would seem that I'm the only person in all of the land to be plagued by mosquitoes, even though it has been Autumn for a while and the temperature is starting to drop like the stocks. Some sadistic deity must be trying to punish me in an ironic way, because there is no single creature in the universe I despise more than the Culex Pipien (your common blood-sucking variety of mosquitoes).

I could be considered an animal person. I have a cat and a dog, and insects don't really bug or frighten me. When a bee or a wasp wanders inside the house, I just catch it with a cup and release it back into the wild.

But mosquitoes are another thing. These creatures are the trolls of the animal kingdom. They serve no purpose in nature, and exist only to feast on your blood and spread disease. You may close your windows and stay in the dark on hot summer nights, but despite your best efforts they will find a way to get inside, and they will do their darnedest best to deprive you of your precious sleep. Your room may be as big as a mini-mall, but they will invariably try to get in one place, and one place only: your inner ear.

I swear, it's as if they're trying to buzz Eduard Khil's 
"I am glad to finally be back home" in my cochlea

Once a mosquito has announced its presence, there are a few ways in which you can retaliate.  Waving one's arm(s) around spasmodically to fend it off is a natural reaction, but you know the pest will be back to wake you up just as soon as you are falling asleep. Otherwise, you can pretend to not have heard it, making an easy meal of yourself. Others prefer to turn the lights on and hunt down the little nuisance, only for it to vanish into thin air.

Occasionally, you are able to spot the flying leech. There you are, poised with your deadly slipper in your hand. You strike, like a barbarian warrior felling some virgin-stealing monster (well, at least I do; those pests make me go berserk), only for the beast to nimbly dodge the attack. But once in a blue moon, your instrument of death strikes true. For an instant, you are filled with relief and joy; until you see the enormous splatter of blood left behind on the wall, a grim reminder of this grandiose battle.

So, the moral of the story is: the mosquito always wins.