I was carpet bombed last night by a lone mosquito. Ale got the same treatment too, so picture the scene at 3:30 in the morning - trying to hunt down the bleeder whilst peppered with pink patches of Piracalamina, a wonderful product I must say.
When we finally found him, he got the squish treatment (naturally) and we managed to drift off to sleep around 4am.
Even though we are on the 4th floor, these irritant fligs seem to somehow make their way inside the apartment and lay in wait for what I assume is JB's sangre dulce. It really does wind me up why these creatures exist, and how much damage they do - and of course I'm talking about their activities elsewhere in the world.
I am investigating the possibility of making up an amateur trap involving the cunning use of yeast and a coke bottle. I WILL catch the blighters!