Sorry about that west nile virus, Brooklyn

For a few weeks we've been having a mosquito problem in our apartment, which is not something one generally expects in mid-November, but thanks to climate change, every season is now an adventure in the unexpected!

Still, though, this many mosquitoes in one apartment points to a problem … somewhere. Somewhere nearby. We tried to get to the bottom of this problem by scratching our wounds and bitching about it. Then one night, as Scott and I were preparing for sleep (translation: reading erotic poetry aloud to one another; flossing--erotically) the cat jumped on the bed and stared at the ceiling. I assumed, as one does, that there were ghosts hovering up there--because everyone knows cats can see ghosts and it drives them crazy that they can't pounce on 'em--but I looked up and instead of glimpsing a floaty ancestor I saw approximately 1 billion mosquitoes.

As you can imagine, this was not a sight one wishes to see before one drops off to sleep.

Now that I'm picturing the scene a little more vividly in my mind's eye, it was maybe less like 1 billion and more like twelve. Even so, one does not like to share one's bedroom with more mosquitoes than zero. Much less A DOZEN WAITING UP THERE FOR YOU TO DOZE OFF SO THEY CAN DRAIN YOU OF YOUR DELICIOUS BLOOD.

Scott and I immediately leapt up and murdered each of the mosquitoes, or maybe if you want to be accurate Scott murdered them while I helpfully pointed out the stragglers and shouted, "Kill them! Kill them ALL!" Or, okay, maybe I just shuddered and rocked back and forth. At any rate, I made sure to keep out of his way until his spree was complete.

He felled all the mosquitoes that were waiting above us, but there were more. As soon as I began dropping off to sleep that night and for several nights after, I was treated to a series of those horrible ear-fly-bys, like they were saying, "Guess what, asshole."

We were baffled. Where were these mosquitoes coming from? What was going on? And then my brilliant husband, oh, he realized. It was a few nights later when he was awakened to another mosquito-party--this time going on on his body--and that's when it hit him: the roof deck. Where we had planters. And there had been rain. And we had not gone up there, because it was cold, and who goes up to a roof deck when it's cold? Smart people do to make sure there's no standing water, that's who. Smart people who are not us. Oh no, we had created a mosquito haven up there, and it was a short distance downstairs to our place, and I have no idea how they were arriving en masse into our apartment with our windows closed but I just hope we were the main victims and that everyone on our block was not similarly afflicted.

Anyway, Scott got up, in the middle of the night, and went up there and drained every inch of standing water SO THERE TAKE THAT MOSQUITOES HA HA HAAAAAAAAAAAAaa. HA. BAM. WE WIN.

Then we were still under attack, kind of a lot, actually, for another couple of weeks, and it finally occurred to us that the big giant planter up on the roof, the one that had plenty of soil in it, not water, so it didn't need to be drained, maybe was the problem? And come to think of it was kind of muddy? And maybe mosquitoes like mud? (Spoiler alert: THEY DO.)

Oh, I'll tell you, we are always learning! So it only took us 14 days or so to figure that out. We're really doing quite well for ourselves. This is why we're better off not owning a home. You're welcome, New Jersey.