Oh. My. God.
I know it's the South. I know it's got its share of "wildlife" due to its sub-tropical climate. I know there are flying roaches. I know the mosquitoes suck blood all year 'round. But nobody said anything about the lizards. LIZARDS!
I never even knew I was afraid of the things until I moved here. Today marked the second time I was inside the house minding my own business when I spotted one. The first time I was at S's place in the Heights. (So notice we're talking two different houses.) I'd been there maybe a few weeks. I glanced up at the wall, and there it was, still as night, near the ceiling. I called Schmin, screaming, and he said I had no choice but to trap it and throw it outside. I couldn't do it, and by the time I got back into the room from cowering in the kitchen, it was gone. The last time I saw it, it was hanging out behind Mira's litter box. I did not want that cat to catch it, because it would've been carnage. Luckily, S's boyfriend was over, and she had him get it. He's from the country, she said. He can handle these things. He did. Just picked the thing up barehanded and took it outside. I told S she should marry that guy, ASAP.
These lizards are small, like 3 inches plus that scary little sharp pointy tail, specifically designed to poke out your corneas. I can confirm this because when I went to raise the blinds on one of the windows in the living room this morning, there was this:
I hollered like a beeatch, ripped down the blinds with the flailing of my arms, called Bubs, couldn't get him, then called Schmin, who told me I'm going to have to find a way to make peace with the lizards instead of waking him up crying and screaming at 8am Pacific time. I made him stay on the phone while I tried to sweep the thing out the window. It was an experience worse than childbirth. The lizard kept hopping all around the panes, sticking to them, jumping on the broom and back on the panes. I thought I'd finally gotten it out, then I saw that it had fallen inside a box that was sitting under the window. I closed it, ran outside, and dumped its contents on the lawn, where they remain, even though it's raining cats and dogs.
Speaking of cats, Mira hid under the bed when I started screaming, so she was no help. This time I was hoping she'd come out and eat the thing, as long as I wouldn't have to watch.
Once I calmed down, I tried to follow Schmin's advice and make friends with nature.
Just as I'd worked up the courage to get my stuff off the lawn, I noticed this:
Yep. Another one. Peeking out from the slats.
This is as close as I've come to moving back to Los Angeles. Like I told Schmin, I'm way too citified for this. I wish I was more like my maternal grandmother, who raised me. Once, when I was about 11, I was in the bathroom at our apartment when I saw a mouse. I had a conniption, yelling, Big Mama! Big Mama! Help me! She ran in, saying, Girl, what's the matter? I said It's a mouse! It's right over there! She looked at it, scoffed, and said, Aw, chile, that ain't nothing. Then she proceeded to corner the mouse behind the bathroom door and whack it to death with her slipper. I was like, Are you serious?! She'd been raised on a farm; she was fearless with critters.
Dear God I just don't have that in me, and it looks like I'm really going to need it.