On Monday, my mom came over very early to babysit for me while I coached conditioning for my cheerleading squad and started setting up my classroom. (The heartache I'm feeling as I prepare to go back to work in 5 days will be saved for another post.) I called her around 10 a.m. to check in...only to find out that she & Hudson were being held captive in the kitchen because there was a lizard under the chair in the family room! (Side note here: my mom is terrified of lizards!) By the time I got home, my other mother, Suzy, was also there and the two of them were intent on getting that lizard out of my house! The 3 of us spent the next few hours hunting Mr. Lizard. He went under the chair, we flipped over the chair, he went under the couch we Swiffered him out. We swept him, we sprayed him with Windex, we threw a Windex-soaked paper towel over him, we beat him with the Swiffer. He wouldn't leave and he wouldn't die. In the end, he took retreat in my glass-encased fireplace by climbing through the grate. My mom & I then spent the next few hours taking turns watching the fireplace in case he came back out. Seriously, we took turns. If someone had to pee or get a glass of water, we'd tag out and put the other in charge. Our eyes were crossing. And Mr. L taunted us. Oh, how he taunted us. He'd stick his head out, then his tail...but he NEVER. CAME. OUT. By the time Jay came home, we were at our wit's end. We'd finally flung the fireplace grate down, only to find....NOTHING. I went to bed telling myself that Mr. L had either found a way out through the fireplace or had died in there.
And then this morning I came home from cheerleading conditioning and saw a tail slither under the chair as I walked in to the family room. F**K! Luckily I'd just put Hud down for a nap, so I lifted up the chair....NOTHING. Was my mind playing tricks on me? I moved the ottoman and saw him scamper back under the chair. WAR. ON.
I chased him with the broom all around our family room and kitchen. I flipped over furniture. I sprayed him with everything in our closet. Cursing at him all the while. And finally, finally I beat him to death with the Swiffer.
Here are the post-war photos:
Yeah, I flipped the couch by myself.
My "weapons."
The chair ended up in the kitchen. On its back. And on the right is our all-natural bug spray that I tried to drown Mr. L in.
Dead & Captured. RIP Mr. L.
Apparently, lizards stick their tongues out when they die. Or I beat his tongue out of him.
Oh, did I forget to mention he wasn't a cute little green lizard? He was HUGE & BLACK.
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