Mosquito

It happened tonight. I was outside tending my rain-weary pansies when I saw the first one land on my arm. I felt it and thought, “Ah-ha! Got ya!”, and in a very winter-like attitude, I blew hard on my arm to make the mosquito fly away.
Wait. What was I thinking?! By the end of my pansy patch, I had four mosquito bites and was screaming up the stairs for the Cortaid. I think the only thing that made the whole episode worthwhile was when I asked my husband for some help with the one bite that was in a hard-to-reach spot on my back, and he rubbed in the anti-itch cream into the bite for at least 20 seconds. Ah! Now that was sinfully satisfying, yet not something that would have garnered the admonishment of “STOP SCRATCHING!” from a grandmother.
But...aren’t we supposed to see fireflies before mosquitoes?!