I want my DDT.

Just before bedtime the other evening, I noticed something flittering around the kitchen light. At first I thought it was a moth, because that's what moths do. Then I realized it had those skinny legs, like a marionette flying about with its strings cut. 

GAH! Mosquito! 

Just what you want as you're about to go to sleep -- the knowledge that a bloodsucking freak is lurking.

First I tried to slap it silly by smashing my hands together, but it kept getting away and probably thought I was applauding. Fortunately it was staying near the light over the table, so I took a moment to bring in the big guns -- the flyswatter. 

I stalked my prey, my nerves as taut as a divorcee's underwire, as I neared it and -- zing! Slapped it out of the sky. 

"Where did it go?" I said. 

"I think you injured it," my wife said. "It's done for."

"Don't be silly! They're at their most dangerous when they're wounded."

It would be very satisfying if, when you wing one, a mosquito went down in a spiral of smoke and gave off a little explosion when it hit the ground, but that's not the way they work. Instead I had to deal with the uncertainty. Did it survive? Would I get stung in the night? 

The answers appear to be no. Maybe one of the dogs ate it. They'll go after anything on the floor.

All of this leaves one question in my mind: Those who hate DDT and similar bug-killers and buy completely the Rachel Carson schtick always say that in countries where malaria is a deadly menace, mosquito netting is the answer. Do African mosquitos only bite at night? They certainly bite in the daytime here.