Lizard…Lizard…Lizard

Back in October, the temps here reached the high 70s during the week of Columbus Day. On the east coast we have always known that seven days specifically as Indian Summer.  Therefore, all of the creepy crawlies, normally out during warm weather, continued their summer activities.  As I mentioned a couple of blogs ago, my desk faces outside, and is very close to the front door; the same entrance way that had a slight dip.  What I mean is, the weather striping had been worn away at one particular spot, leaving a perfect place for anything slithering – to glide right on inside.  Let me set the scene.  Here I sit at my desk, busily labeling defendant documents.  Now, I say this, because at the time, I didn’t bother anyone or anything, and no one should have bothered me.  But no –  suddenly, my peripheral vision caught sight of a black streak scurrying on the floor to the left of my chair.

Now, not all of you reading this know me.  You would have no idea that I would rather walk a mile out-of-the-way than continue down the same walkway where I had come upon anything crawling on its belly.  You also would not know that I ran two blocks after throwing my bike in the ditch from a dead garter snake.  Oh sure, you know from my blog the week of Thanksgiving how my father scared the snot out of me with the rubber snake in a bag, but you have never actually witnessed any of this.  Do you know how far or how fast a person can move when fear comes calling?  So, although we’re talking about the creature moving at lightening speed, I caught a shape, and a color which proved all the information by brain needed.  My gray cells processed the data provided, instantly sent a message to the vocal cords, producing not a scream, but a squeal; just enough to alert everyone a problem existed.  Only a millisecond later, the feet and arms responded, sending me clearly to the other side of the office. Remarkably, the papers I had been working on never left the desk, somewhat disheveled, but they remained in that spot – good thing too, because one of the attorneys would have been retrieving them, and not me.

So, here I am cowering in a corner on the other side of the office, and my co-worker scrambling toward me, urgently asking what the problem might be.  The two attorneys also scrambled out – all staring at me as though I’d set up a robbery, the thief had shown up, and I’m now reacting.  I began pointing toward my desk, and tried to speak the words.  “Lizard…lizard…lizard…by my desk.”  The senior partner’s face, I think, said it all.  He stared at me as if to say “What?  Well, was it a Gila Monster.”  I said to myself, yeah, yeah, think what you want, only kill the beast.  Needless to say, I couldn’t move from my protective corner.  My co-worker followed the guys, and reported back to me.  With each thwack of the wrist I cringed, thinking oh my Lord, it must have been bigger than I first thought.  It went down like a hostage situation, the only thing missing had been the walkie-talkies where they reported each negotiation back to her.  I remained in my space until all the commotion died down and I got word – “It’s done.”

My co-worker reported the news to a client later in the day.  He laughed and commented on how it must have been an alligator since it took two men to bring the quick little so and so down.  My grandmother used to say of ghosts, they won’t hurt you, but they will certainly make you kill yourself (trying to get out of its way that is). That is exactly my opinion on these little creatures.  And, I’m not talking about the cute little television gecko or my animated reptile in the suit.  My neighbors seven-year old daughter, also laughed at me, because she catches them and tries to keep them in a jar.  To bad she had not been there to catch the little critter for me, as she does when I see them on my family room window.  Interested in the outcome?  My attorney called the repair guy, who came to fix the door.  He too gave me a look as if to say, “Really?”  All I can say is, they don’t know how lucky they are.  Because, if the Gila Monster had run across my foot, the papers would have definitely gone flying.  Then, there would have been much more than strewn papers to clean from the floor, if you know what I mean.  Am I the only one afraid of creepy crawlers?

Photo courtesy of iStockPhoto.com

Curious Habit

HIDING

I admittedly have a little quirk that has been with me since my teenage years, and at the tender age of seventeen my father decided he wanted to break the habit. How do you make your children strong, then develop the urge to break that will.  I’m laughing still.  What is this oddity you ask?  It’s simply called curiosity.  Bring a bag of any sort into my presence, brown, or otherwise and I can’t seem to repress the urge to find out its contents.  Now, I had no idea the man had conspired with my mother, and that she had gone along with the crazy scheme.  In any event, I am now many years away from a teenager, but the pesky tendency continues to rear its head.  On this particular day, however, he came in from work with a couple of brown grocery bags – unpretentious enough.  He proceeded to place them on the dining room table then, he walked to the kitchen to greet my mother.  The misplaced packages should have provided a clue, but they didn’t.

So, here you have this inquisitive young person, prancing and dancing around the table, taking her time in checking out these problematical parcels.  As I’ve thought about this through the years, I can remember the odd presence on my father’s face.  You see, I didn’t recognize it at the time, but he underhandedly watched as I ritualized the process of peeking in the bags.  Now, I didn’t take the time to peer in the package on this specific day.  No, I effortlessly eased my hand into the first one sitting at the edge.  Still not gazing in, I moved my hand around the inside of the bag.  Doing that, alerted my senses to something strange in makeup.  So peculiar, I immediately turned my face to the top; drawing my hand out, and hovering my head over, there it sat – gazing back at me.  Could I be dreaming? This could not possibly be real.  But, it stared back at me; curled in the bottom, with it’s head waving from side to side. I certainly knew it would strike for sure. There, right in my immediate vision, a black snake with some weird stripes on its head.

Now, do you think I hung around to ask questions, or even clearly understand what had happened?  Absolutely not. The shocked teen’s hands went toward the ceiling, mouth blasted open, and she bolted away from that table. She ran out of the dining room, through the living room, out the front door, and banged through it never stopping to use the handle.  From there, she leaped from the porch onto the sidewalk, and headed out as fast as possible; not even with a destination in mind, only needing to get out of the presence of the threat.  My block had the length of two long city streets.  When the crazy man caught up to me, I had made it half way to the Avenue.  The rubber snake in the bag may have sent me, the teenager, leaping like a frightened, but curious feline – however, break the habit – never.

Also, as I have asked in each of my posts lately, if you’re here, please take a minute to go to the top of this page and click “like” on my Facebook Fan Page. Thanks in advance.

Photo courtesy of iStockPhoto

A Little Funny

When we first moved here, we lived in an apartment while we waited for the completion of the house.  One morning I arose from my bed and headed into the bathroom to brush my teeth.  I noticed my husband as he sat up, and swung his feet to the side of the poster bed, just as he always did – giving his body a chance to catch up with his brain.  I reached for my toothbrush, picked up the paste, and squirted it on the brush.  It had not been until that moment when I turned my gaze down, into the sink.  The instant I did….there it sat…..lounging…….front tentacles waving around as it had then sensed my presence, I’m sure.

Without hesitation, I sail the toothbrush through the air.  My hands immediately go up, and I begin flailing them about.  I am now becoming every shade imaginable, since I had begun to hyperventilate.  Again, without any brain wave I take flight back into the bedroom; feet never touching the floor – like a frightened gazelle.  Only, my feet are moving and I am not, as there is this horrible drag on my momentum, because my nightgown is caught on the handle of the door.  Then, all in one fluid motion, I untangle myself, and land directly in front of my husband.  My hands continuing to wave about as I dance back and forth.  So terrified my larynx had sucked shut like the door on the vault.

The poor man finally gets there is a problem. (You think)?  He never moves from the bed, but erects his torso, and stretches his eyes wide. His chest heaves with each erratic breath.  All he can manage is, “What’s wrong!? what’s wrong!?”

In my continued state of horror, I am still dancing, and frantically waving.  I opened my mouth to speak.  But, the darn larynx still isn’t working.  My voice had galloped off in terror, with the gazelle.

My husband, who has contracted my affliction, is now as distraught as I.  But, he has to retain his air of masculinity.  With that, he manages to hop to the floor.  He cautiously tiptoes to the bathroom.  As he stepped across the threshold, he let go a loud sigh, “Aw, Honey, please.  It’s just a thousand legger.”

As the sound of his speech signaled he had it all under control, my voice suddenly peeked out from where it had been hiding.  I shuttered, took a deep breath, and dropped my body against the side of the bed.  I pushed the words past my cracked throat, “Did you kill it?”

“Yes, Honey, its dead.  You can calm down now.”

After realizing he had rescued me by killing the intruder, I answered, “Are you kidding, that thing was as wide as it was long.  I quivered again, “Ugh, centipedes?”

“You are such a girl,” he said in that funny way he talks and laughs at the same time.

When this happened, we had been married almost twenty-five years.  I am declaring at this very moment, if he didn’t know how much of a girl he really married, then I’m afraid the next twenty-five will be pretty enlightening for sure.

Photo courtesy of iStock Photo