Locked in my room
When I lived in the country in South Carolina, small frogs and lizards used to make it into the house regularly. I am not a friend to things that are slimy, green and/or jump, so I would squeal while trying to find something to trap them in until I could get someone to do something–anything– with them. That usually meant they were trapped under a coffee cup.
I’m not so cruel that I wanted the creeps to suffocate, so I googled for ideas to repel them. Several sits mentioned cats repel the critters, so we got a kitten.
Everything you read online is not true.
The frogs and lizards continued to make it into the house. Only now the kitten thought it was his job to catch them in his mouth. He was good at his job, and liked to show them off by presenting them to me as gifts. My reaction to his thoughtfulness was to run away, and he thought we were playing chase. Sigh. Don’t ask me how this game ends because I don’t know. I’m sure someone came along and did something, but I think I’ve blocked that trauma from my memory.
I don’t expect to have to deal with those things now. I mean, I live in the city. I have sidewalks, corner stores, and toothless sex workers in my neighborhood.
Again, I was wrong.
I noticed my sectional was awry… Well, it’s kinda always awry. It’s awry more than it is straight, but I digress… I went to straighten the couch by shifting one piece and looked down on the floor and saw a lizard. I pushed the two parts back together and went to my bedroom closed the door with a plan to spend the rest of the evening in my bedroom. The clock read 6:09pm.
Once the door was shut, I realized I’d left Clever out there with the beast, and I cracked my bedroom door to call her name. I heard her trot my way and I opened the door just enough to let her in. Ok, I saved the pup.
Hmm, should I put something under the door so the predator doesn’t follow me in?
Oh crap, where did I leave my wine?
I tiptoed back into the unsafe space, grabbed my glass and the bottle before rushing back into my bedroom. It’s 6:11pm.
I blew the dust off the book on my nightstand, and tried to concentrate on the words, but I kept hearing things. Was the lizard calling out to his friends to form an army to attack? Maybe that was the heat.
Phone dings. Bae. Can she come over later? Yes! She can catch the lizard. I tell her she has to catch the lizard. She lols. “Me? Lizard?” She asks. “Yes, you!” The terms are non-negotiable . She can come over only if she can catch the lizard. She replies, “Ok.” Life saved. Drink the wine. Pour more wine. Read a few words. Drink more wine. Pour more wine. Empty bottle. Fall asleep. At some point, Bae arrived and the lizard is forgotten…
Until the next morning, Bae has her keys in her hand headed towards the door.
“You have to get the lizard!”
She starts laughing. I point in it’s direction, and move as far away from it’s hiding spot as I can and still remain in the same room. I watch as she slides the couch apart. “It’s dead.” She grabs the lizard with a paper towel, and walks towards me. I’m standing by the bathroom and the back door, and assuming she’s headed in one of those directions, I make a wide circle in the opposite direction.
Bae starts cheesing from ear to ear. Knowing her well, I start moving even faster. She heads straight for me. “Stop playing!” I squeal.
She chases me as I scream. She’s no better than the cat.
Kitchen to the dining room to living room. My screams are our soundtrack. Her laughter taunts me. She goes to the bathroom, drops the amphibian in the toilet and flushes. I can never use that toilet again.