Bugs… and lousy sleep

I woke up because a mosquito was eating me alive.

I could feel the pinch of his little mouth as he excreted his venom into a pocket under my skin so that I would itch in that location for days to come. Swatting my hand through the darkness, I tried to end his tiny little life but my hand ended empty upon my shoulder, where I moved my fingers slightly to feel four large bumps where he’d already done his damage. I pulled the sheets over my bare skin.

Exhausted, I rolled onto my stomach in an attempt to fall back asleep – exposing the top of my back to the night air. It wasn’t long before I felt tiny pinches there. So I pulled the sheets up higher.

Then I heard him. In my ear rang that awful buzzing of a mosquito too close for comfort. His wings disturbed the soundwaves in the air as he flew towards and away from my golden skin, figuring out where to land next. Turns out, he chose wrong.

He landed on my cheek as it lay face up in the night air. I felt his tiny feet grip my face as he prepared to bite and – whack – I felt pain. Yea, I have no problem slapping myself in the face. And I killed the little sucker, too. Of course this was all enough excitement to wake me up enough that I couldn’t just fall back asleep. I decided I’d open my eyes, see where in the night I was.

Middle of the night. Pitch dark. Thick black night air surrounded me and I could see nothing more with my eyes open then closed. No moonlight snuck through the screened window, and I noticed not a single noise emerged from the wilderness outside. Silence to accompany the blackness. It was unnerving, considering I’m staying ontop of a mountain, close to both the lighthouse and the moon, in the middle of the woods, usually filled with life. I lay there with my eyes open, hoping they’d adjust so I could make out some sort of object in my room, realizing that no matter how safe I knew I was in my room, the darkness and eery silence of the night would be enough to scare anyone.

That’s when I heard it. Rustling, just feet from my bed. Loud.

Footsteps? I don’t think so – too in consistent. I heard it again. Whatever it was, it was large. The noise grew stronger. It was touching one of the plastic bags loose in my room, flipping out and making quite the racket.

That’s when it really dawned on me. There was something in my room. Being the big, strong, mature and brave girl I am, I hid under the sheets. Pulled the covers right up over my head. Feeling slightly safer, I needed to know how it got in. My window was shut and boarded by the thick wooden screens. My door was closed firmly. There are no holes in my room in the roof providing a portal to the wilderness of the dark, Ramatuelle night. None that I knew of, at least.

The creature shifted, rustling the bag again. Whatever It was, it was large. It couldn’t realisticly be a person, could it? No. Maybe a lizard? Or a rat of some type? Perhaps it was another ferret… but all the way in my attic room? By the sound of it, it had wings. A bat? But how’d it get in? The noise grew louder.

I explored my options. I could scream; my dad was right downstairs and he’d hear me. (Imagine if I had been in the house alone?) I could turn the light on and brave the beast, hoping that the sudden brightness didn’t piss him off and make him attack me. Or I could quiver under the sheets all night, hoping to fall back asleep.

Clearly rest would not come to me while I remained locked in my room with an unknown animal. I had enough pride not to scream. I was smart enough not to just flip the switch and hope for the best. So I curled up tight under my covers, reached one little arm out to my night table and searched blindly for the lamp. My fingers ran across my picture frame, my clock, the lampshade… down the cord to the switch. I held my breath. Light. And no noise.

Carefully I adjusted the covers so I had a clear peephole to my now bright room. I saw nothing. I slowly flipped over. Nothing above me, nothing on the other side of the room. I pulled the covers down to my shoulders. Still, I saw nothing. As I sat up in my bed, however, I heard it again. Quickly my eyes darted toward my lamp where I knew I would find my nemesis, disappointed to only see a large moth flutter its wings.

I am a wuss.

Of course, I am now way too awake from all the excitement to fall back asleep. I got up and went down stairs, brushed my teeth, hung out… and now I’m writing long, dramatic stories of my real-life encounters with three inch beasts to keep myself entertained. The bugs have gotten pretty bad. When I first arrived, I was wearing a white skirt one morning and decided to stand eating my yogurt outside, overlooking the water. By the time I finished my little cupful and returned inside, my bright skirt was covered with harmless black bugs clinging to its many folds. It was a little gross, but safe. Now we have blood sucking mosquitoes and things that go bump in the night.

And boars. The “white pigs” have grown more prevalent since I stayed here alone. We’ve caught glances of a few and hear them snorting, crunching leaves under their giant hooves, searching for truffles, every dusk. My mother hates to sit outside with them so close; I can’t wait to see one out in the open. (I imagine I’d be saying something different if I was still alone here.) I like the grunts they make, too – sound a lot like my puppy back home. She’s kind of a pig, too.

Well as much fun as this was, I think I have successfully bored all of you with my bug adventure and therefore it is time to try that sleeping thing again. This time, I’m protected by the mysterious defense power of the mosquito net… Bon soir