Mosquitoes love to drink my blood.
Not so much the Machinist's blood.
He is most considerate of my dilemma when I become insomniacal (if that is a word) after being brutally savaged by the Culicidae Family. Especially those who have ties to the Mafia.
He urges me to wake him, should I be harassed in any way, shape or form by these pesky, midge-like flies. In past times, I've watched him swat and swing, balancing and bouncing on the bed as he does so - with threat of lurching himself off. I can't handle that kind of drama in the middle of the night.
And so - the other night, after switching on the light and thankful that it hadn't woken him, I proceeded to spray the room.
"Babe, what's going on?" he pleaded drowsily
"It's ok, I'm just trying to get these mozzies. They've bitten me a hundred and twenty three times"
I was determined to convince the Machinist that I was doing my part in thwarting their plans of a blood-fest, even if I was exaggerating just a little.
And then he said it.
I had to make an urgent dash to the bathroom.
"You don't have to over do it....we're not in Auschwitz..."