I'm amazed at how perfect it all is! You see despite how you want to smash the suctioned toed, slick tongue, long tail squiggly lizard in your window sill hanging out waiting to catch a fly; you realize that if you kill the fucking lizard then you have to fight the flies. What is one to do when one has a certain level of disgust for one, a fear of the other and a hippie husband?
Well one buys herself double sided sticky tape and place it on the screens of the windows. The tape traps the flies thus eliminating the dinosaur mini's. Duh!
Apparently word got out and the born again little maggots concocted a master plan. They sent a suicide fly; one willing to die for the freedom of others in order to trap the lizard; who ironically no longer had to work hard because I'd trapped his supper. So right there smack dab in the middle of my kitchen window above the sink, where I chop garlic, sip wine, daydream and admire the orange tree. Fascinated that the half dollar sized fruit were just little flowers a few months ago. A puffy swollen struggling lizard was suffering; desperate for another breath. STUCK! Dam! It's suctioned feet were trapped to the glue of the sticky tape and the flies were flying about victoriously shitting invisible fly droppings in my hair, hatching eggs in my trash raising their flag. "Those little bastards!" I thought. I waged war against them with the swatter in the dying lizard's honor. When all the flies were stalked, attacked and smashed I returned to that poor little critter in the window sill and debated:
a. Should I admit to my creature loving husband the scene playing out in the window? A man who'd only scolded me days prior after our beautiful candlelit dinner when I smashed a roach so hard it's wings separated; but of course I believed him to be in the other room. Except he stood in the dim light looking at his beautiful wife with a shoe raised to highest point above my head ready to hammer down with the infested childhood memories of roaches, rats, spiders and WTF is that. The promise of glitter and gold glistening in my head vanishing as one it's dying legs kicked in defeat. "Dirty bastard, you're still alive?" I took a breath of disgust and as I was about to re-reassure myself beyond any reasonable doubt that if I smashed that roach one more time he most certainly would never move again. So I raised my shoe in my soft, long, slinky, sexy something something that I'd wooed my husband in like a warrior ready to leave it's sword in his enemies chest. Then out of nowhere in dashed hubby Whitefeather who scolded me with those judging eyes, scooped the roach, his wings and remains and said, "Well the good thing is...The ants are going to have a feast; roaches are loaded with protein." Grrrrrrrr..................
B. Get over my fears and rescue the lizard, remove the tape and pretend it never happened:
I do live in Hawaii now; The Big Island more specifically; where it's all about ALOHA and there's an unspoken agreement with the spirit of the island that it's all love and we can all live on this earth together. In one peace.
c. Claim victory close the curtain and wait for it to die, dry up, fall off and act surprised too if hubby discovers it before it's final decent to doom. I grew up on the brown side of grass where we KILTD the hell out of lizards, spiders, cockroaches, frogs and anything else that crawled, flew or ran up a tree slow enough. As a sophisticated lady I enjoy the pleasure it brings me to stare out the window. I have to consider the discomfort in my chest until the thing falls off. I could suffer for days but then ultimately the lizards would have gotten the message. What if like the suicide fly I too have to suffer for the bigger picture? Hmmmph! What was one to do? What did one do? What would you do?
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| Time flies; like fire and planes So does butter on Aunt Chris' homemade biscuits Dragons used to. Does anybody care? |
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