Phyllis and I wanted to chill out after our last day working, decompressing a bit before she had to catch her flight home. I had poked around the internet, and since we had such a nice time touring the Huntsville Botanical Garden, I hoped to find something similar in Jackson.
This was more difficult, but I ended up finding a little garden, the former grounds of a 19th-century mansion.
We told our university clients that we would be garden-visiting, and they were all, "Don't. You'll get the West Nile. It's here now. Did you know that a baby died from it?"
Me saying, "Oh yes, we've had West Nile in Pennsylvania for aaaaaages. I'm not worried, I don't know anyone who has had it," had absolutely no effect on them. We would willfully go, get West Nile, and then die just like that baby.
The garden was little and pretty, but jam-packed full of standing water and mosquitoes. I thought Mississippians knew about mosquitoes... so why all the standing water? Shouldn't they know better?
Those mosquitoes were everywhere, and I got a zillion bites. Even still I wasn't too concerned about getting West Nile. Liang and Dara came to Philly the day I arrived back, for our Regularly Scheduled Roomie Weekend (of Eating). And I kept telling them that I had West Nile, that I could feel it, but that it got better.