After posting last night, I pulled myself out of bed to actually take a shower (my feet were literally black and my hair was stringy), I wondered out and turned on the shower in the bathroom. I was about to hop into the shower when I realized I'd left my towel in the bedroom. I stumbled along the hallway when I noticed a strange looking little lumpy thing on the floor.
It literally was not there three minutes before when I went to the bathroom. I assumed it was . . . wait . . . I had just swept the floor. There was NOTHING on the floor. Nothing!
What the heck . . . I crouched down and looked closer only to have a long leggy thing stick out . . . What?!
Then . . . I realized this sleeping lizard thing was one of those tree frogs. I do not do well with any amphibians, but frogs scare the heck out of me (it's from our summer work gardening . . . there was this pond and the bull frogs--huge bull frogs--would leap at you and leap at each other and devour each other. It was bad news), so I FaceTimed John slightly hysterical.
He laughed at me.
It's nothing. Either leave it be or do something about it (IE I'm watching a good show . . . stop bothering me). What's the worst that could happen?
Do you not remember that I am the person that has spiders and lost rodents run over their faces? I reminded him. I am the person who has things veer to hit her? I am the person who hits a lighting/SUPER storm EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. SHE. FLIES! This creature will attach itself to my face and I will no be able to sleep a wink knowing this!
He shook his head and said, Uh, I got nothing for you.
So, I hung up.
I decided I was a 43 year old brave independent woman. I could do this . . . so I gingerly (with some whimpers) snuck by it's inert form and quietly grabbed a broom and dustpan and I would gingerly . . . scoop it up?
Ok, I had no idea, but it wasn't that big right?
So I go to gingerly poke it and try to pry it's gummy little finger things off the floor . . . when it puffs up . . . for reals . . . PUFFS up. It's beady little eyes pop open and swivel around to look at me with it's slimy yellow stare and I was already screaming by the time it leaped over my head and attached itself to the WALL behind ME!
If I had not peed before hand, I would have made a puddle. Bless my deaf mother's heart because she would have thought an ax murderer had come in. I was jumping and screaming as the frog leaped from wall to wall over my head and finally flew itself into the guest room. I slammed the door behind it and called John again. About three seconds from tears.
Still no sympathy. In fact, an emphatic get yourself to bed was the answer.
Easy for him to say . . . what if there is a plague of Frogs heading into this house? What if this one sneaks out. . . there was serious room under the door.
I sat in my bed for about five minutes getting brave, giving myself a pep talk and then as fast as I could, I jumped out of bed (praying my heart out . . . Please please please don't let me step on a frog! Please Jesus!) and ran to the closet. With literally shaking hands I yanked it open and grabbed two towels. I stuffed one as fast as my little hands could work into the crack beneath the guest room door and then, with my heart pounding itself out . . . I crept down the hallway to the garage and saw a big old gaping hole at the bottom . . . I stuffed the second towel in there as tight as I could.
Then . . . oh man, then i still had to take a shower! I stared at the drain (thank you John for suggesting it) the whole time and literally took the fastest shower of my life. I leaped across the hallway (refusing to look at the tile) and leaped straight into bed.
I fell asleep about 45 minutes later. No plague of frogs appeared. Hallelujah. But I was woken up three times in the night with honestly bed shaking thunder. I thought the Adam bomb had been dropped into my parents pool. For reals. Floridians . . . you guys . . . I've got a whole new level of respect.
Needless to say, I slept in. My mother said, Hey, why didn't you get up and run like you told me you would. I told her about the frog.
In the twenty years we've lived here, she said, I've never had one frog in the house. Not one.
I nodded. I know, Mom, it's because of me. I am a harbinger of crazy.
She nodded back. She's my mother . . . she knows these things.
We gingerly opened the guest room door and there was little frog (only it wasn't that little).
Oh that's a little frog, my mama said.
And I said, Ok, Mom, you go get it.
Oh, no no no, I don't do frogs.
Me either.
Ok, she said. Let's call our neighbors.
They were all gone.
By this point I was thinking, it's either the frog or me leaving this house and it's POURING buckets out.
So, I devised a very bad plan involving Tupperware and a cut up cover.
It was not pretty . . . there was one drop and three thousand palpitations and nine blood curdling screams, but we got the little guy out into the rain.
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| My night time amphibian friend |
I had to sit down. Honestly, I know, everyone who likes/loves frogs, I'm an idiot. But really . . . things that can jump over your head and have suction cups for hands. No, I can't do that. As I was sitting on the screened in porch . . . right above my head a huge frog crocked.
I did not pee my pants, but it was a close call. The darn frog was inside the water drain right above my head . . . but this time, thankfully, outside the screen door.
But I'd had enough. I went inside and went to bed for the next three hours.
It was our off day, so I sat in my bed and read and chatted on the phone and did a little odds and ends, but mostly, nothing.
Then I went to the beach and sat undisturbed for two hours as the sun sank.
I even swam (but not too far because I'm scared of undertow . . . been there, done that . . . it stinks) and finished my book (hear that . . . one day, finished book . . . It was The Kiss Quotient about a beautiful aspberger woman who is trying to discover how to be in relationships . . . and boy does she ever! I read it because we've got that in our family, but I finished it because it was SO good . . . a little (lot) racy, but sooo good!). Then I came home to my mama feeling a big under the weather. So I had an easy dinner (sandwich) and then decided to head out on my evening bike ride. There was blue skies all around with some big puffy clouds. But blue sky.
Ten minutes into my ride the sky (blue sky) opened up and I got 100 percent drenched! Like pouring hurting rain pelting down on me.
I loved it.
Like totally loved it.
But I didn't love biking through the creepy swamp.
Or the fact that every animal (and amphibian) was trying not to drown. My frog encounters were honestly . . . legion. I do not like frogs and I am petrified of snakes (I know, I should NOT be in Florida). And as I was tooting along in the dusk, thinking happily that even though frogs are bouncing all around me, at least there aren't snakes . . .
Scream scream scream. Yes, a snake at that moment slithered out of the grass right into my path. It was green and long and . . .
I may have set a new record for biking my ten mile loop.
I came into the screened in porch to dry off a bit and finish my call with my sister Anne. I looked up and there, crawling up the window in front of me was a smaller version of Mr. Frog from last night.
And here's what I did . . . I came up close (but not too close) and said to little frog, I see you. I get it. The Universe is trying to teach me to calm down. To realize that these little things like frogs sneaking into my house or snakes slithering across my path, they aren't the worst thing. In fact, they're proof that there is coolness in the universe. I mean, these things can basically attach themselves to any surface and leap ten or fifteen feet in any direction and land perfectly (and silently). I'm giving up. Lets live in harmony. You . . . out here (I pointed to the window). Me (I pointed to the inside of the house) in there.
Got it?
I'm telling you, he totally blinked.
And strangely enough, I feel better. More peaceful and balanced. Also, I think I only slept about four hours last night, so I might be totally exhausted too. Whatever it is, I feel better. I am facing my fears. I have a lot of them and thank you Florida, you're doing a good job. I am braver than I was yesterday.
And that is saying something.
May all our sleeps be frog free . . .
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