How does that phrase end? ". . . beg bugs bite"? Yeah, well no one said that to me before I went to bed last night. I woke up feeling a little scratchy. In the shower, I was still a big groggy, and thought I noticed a few red spots on my legs, but shook them off as mosquito bites (even though I haven´t seen one mosquito since being in Europe). Then when I met my friends for breakfast, I said, "God, I have all these stupid mosquito bites." I pulled up my pant leg, and I was covered from hip to ankle with about 100 bites between both legs. Then they noticed that they were all up and down my arms and neck too. Hands, feet, ears - you name it. YUCK!! I told the girl at the desk. She was extremely apologetic. She moved my room immediately, paid for my anti-itch medicine, gave me money for laundry, and gave my friends and I all vouchers for free beers and free breakfasts. So after slathering myself with this gel, we went to breakfast. In a moment of self-pity, I decided to treat myself to a decadent breakfast of ice cream, fresh fruit, and melted dark chocolate to dip it all in. It hardly cancelled out all the embarrassing itching and spottage, but melted chocolate certainly can´t hurt.
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