To the mosquito or other insect that attacked my foot yesterday:
I loathe you with every fibre of my being right now. What made you decide that the fleshy bottom of my left foot, left exposed by my flip flops while having a lovely picnic for lunch, was a suitable target for your own lunch?
Did you not think “hmmm, how will she scratch this foot once it is encased in shoes? How will she walk?”
No, you did not. Instead, you grabbed an opportunity to feast and by doing so, you ruined a perfectly good night’s sleep. Instead of sleeping peacefully, I had to contend with a foot that itched impossibly the entire night, despite applications of the magic Itch Stick (which I may actually be allergic to weirdly). I ended up sleeping with my foot on an ice-pack to numb the itch.
Sadly the ice-pack got warm, which meant I was up at 4am getting more ice.
All this meant I did not sleep and I currently have a bag of ice (now ice-water) on my desk to numb my foot into submission.
So, to sum up, dear mosquito, should you and I come into contact ever again, I will not hesitate to squish the life out of you.