Leapin' Lizards

So much of life is relative.

Like the distinction between “stuff” and “junk.” If it belongs to me it is stuff. If it belongs to anyone else, especially if it has been left in a location that I did not sanction, it is junk. Hence, I am regularly asking people to get their junk off the counter, off the stairs, out of the car… well, you get the picture. Yet, these very same items that I categorize with such disdain occupy a higher status in the minds of their owners.

“Emily, what happened to all my stuff (read here: church papers, work papers, random other papers) that was on the counter?”

“Moooooom. Maggie is taking all my stuff (read here: school papers, toys, stuffed animals).”

Very same items. Much different perspective.

I believe that a similar principle applies to pests.

We all have the critters that can put us over the edge. Bugs. Rodents. Birds. Snakes. Other creepy crawly things.

For me, the ultimate terror is mice. Well, rats too. To be honest, anything that resembles a mouse makes my skin crawl: hamsters, guinea pigs, possums.

I will avoid the rodent section in the pet store, simply so I don’t get that nervous, disgusted feeling. I decided after reading 1984 in high school that I would always stand up to an Orwellian-state, big brother in any form, if only to avoid a potentially rat-infested ending in my own life. Even now, my skin just crawls at the thought.

So, earlier in the week when I thought I saw something scurry under the couch in my basement, I immediately felt sick.

We have plenty of large bugs. We have even had several lizards in the basement. And, as much as I don’t like them, any grossness just pales in comparison to the thought of a mouse.

I tipped the couch over. Turned it on its side. I moved it all around, lifted it up, removed all the cushions and pillows. But, still could not find anything.

“Maybe my mind is playing tricks,” I tried futilely to reassure myself.

Then, I saw a brownish-red something poke out from under the couch. My stomach lurched. I knew I would be sick. But, when I moved the couch again: Nothing.

So, I called Jeffrey for some reassurance, which he did not provide. But, sensing my desperation, he advised that I simply avoid the basement for the remainder of the day. He would inspect further after work.

My mind could not stop. I just knew that a whole colony of mice had built a home in my couch. They were living there, had been for months. Never again would I be able to relax in peace, enjoy a movie, take a night off. It was ruined for me. In fact, I was beginning to think I was just going to need to throw the couch away.

Every time, I walked past the basement I would feel sick to my stomach. I would begin to feel my muscles tense, my breathing quicken. Without a great deal of self-control I was certain I may hyperventilate at any moment.

We could find nothing that night, nor the next morning when Jeffrey inspected the bottom of the couch with a flashlight. But, I knew I was not crazy, and as a result, I could not have a single calm moment in my home.

Then, a few days ago, the girls came running upstairs.

“Mom, there’s a wizard in the basement!”

“What? Harry Potter, in my house?”

“No, mom. A wizard.”

So, I went to investigate. I cannot explain my relief when I saw two of these hanging out in the play room.




While, usually, I would have been disgusted (These really have to be some of the freakiest lizards I have ever seen; although, really, they are skinks, not lizards.) in this circumstance, it was all relative.

Compared to having mice, I would have invited a dozen skinks to take up residence in my basement.

I have NEVER felt more relieved.