Sure it’s carbon based. In that sense it’s organic, but man the things I do to it… yikes. I have my reasons.
I am something of a mosquito magnet. They love me. They love to bite me. They love to land on me. They love to fly near me.
In particular, they like my southernmost points. I’m imagining myself on a butcher’s chart at a mosquito supermarket and there, well below the knee, just at the ankle bone is a large circle labeled “sweetmeat”. They pay a price for this meat and that price is blood, my hand slapping down at regular intervals like the tail of a cow, sweeping, smashing, plucking. But at times they eat deeply and survive to spread the word of my succulence.
What’s left of me there is ever decreasing. I am nipped, slowly, persistently, but by tiny, tiny incisors. A wasting away of my ankle flesh that under microscope perhaps looks like trees chewed by beavers. Will I topple? Perhaps soon.
In the meantime I spray. Deet. Anthrax. Gasoline. Napalm. DDT. VD. WMD. Whatever and however often I feel the whiff is waning. A spritz for all body parts. (ALL). A steady soaking for my sweetmeat regions. All of it only increases demand while supply remains forever fixed – two. Two ankles to serve the world’s most foodie mosquitoes.
So why is it that I won’t even say the word chemical in my garden? I would drink deet if it helped repel mosquitoes from my toes, but I won’t use Miraclegro to boost my beets? (Now, I’m not a complete doofus. I do understand that even organic fertilizers are “chemicals”, but I wouldn’t use synthetic fertilizers. There’s a difference.)
But I wonder. Would I ever, if confronted with the sweetmeat truth of something in my garden and its accompanying blood drinker, reach for the deet?