I hate mowing the yard. Hate it. Hate hate hate it. Before last night, I thought there was no way I could possibly hate it more, but when mosquitoes are swarming me while I’m mowing, that makes it so much worse. I got a few bites while I was mowing the front yard, but the sun was behind the house by the time I got to the back yard, throwing the yard into shadow, which is the signal for the blood-sucking zombie bugs to rise from their graves and zero in on any warm-blooded mammals foolish enough to be out after darkness begins to fall. So if the doctors are scratching their heads over my comatose body, remind them to test for zika, west nile, and malaria.