Dear sandflies of the world,
Just to let you know, I really didn’t need a parting gift when we split up at Saltwater Creek, and never need one again.
For weeks your bites have plagued my ankles and feet. I look diseased, not insect bitten.
Your gift has been an absolute pleasure to experience… The constant itch, the swelling and the burning, oh and not to forget the infected one.
I do have to thank you for giving me an excuse not to wear my shoes at work though. And I’d also thank you for my new drug addiction: the instant relief I felt when I popped that first pill was divine.
However, my pharmacist did looked concerned when I begged her for the strongest non-drowsy antihistamine she had. My constant cry of “stronger” after she presented each pill probably didn’t help.
Your gift does have a silver lining though, it’s showed the kindness and love of human beings. Friends, family and strangers have all taken time out of their day to share their best remedies to ease my suffering. Turns out you get around…
I sleep uneasy—drugged up, cream lathered with ice packs around my feet. The latter resulted in me getting a cold, so I would also like to thank you for that too. You are certainly the gift that keeps on giving.
But now, weeks have passed and your bites have begun to fade, leaving scars on the tops of my feet. Your presence is like a thuglife tattoo on your inner lip, you fade over time, but the memory of you holds sharp.
So I thank you for the love… but next time please leave me alone.
With warmest regards,
