I'm jerked awake last night. Gunshots. The fog is so heavy. 4am. There it is again, gunshots. No. An intruder. An intruder shooting, no slapping my husband. Over and over. The fog is slowly peeling back. It's not an intruder. It is my husband. Clapping his hands. Slapping himself. Growling. The pitch black room is suddenly plunged into a bright white. I'm blinded. I slowly focus on the deranged, demented man standing over me. A wild, enraged look in my husbands eye. "Mosquitoes!" he hisses.

Why don't Europeans use screens in the windows?