- How could that skink have possibly gotten into the house? Did I let it in when I came home from work? No, wait–Husband was the one preparing the grill and leaving the door to the deck wide open. It’s all Husband’s fault.
- Had I not been shrieking in the next room, I suppose I could have used my phone to film Husband–on his hands and knees and wielding a broom– trying to coax the skink out from under the dining room table. Hilarious, right? Damn skink got away. Again, it’s all Husband’s fault.
- Skinks are fascinating examples of the wonders of God’s creation–when the skinks are outside in the driveway. When they enter my house, skinks become nasty creepy crawlie critters that need to leave immediately.
- Skink is probably a male. A female skink would be doing the skink-equivalent of stopping to ask for directions: she would come in the middle of the room, and wait for us to gently catch her and guide her back outside. Male skink is hiding somewhere, too proud to admit he’s lost.
- Skink is probably hiding in the dishwasher, and I won’t discover this fact until after I run the dishwasher, at which point it will be too late to save him, and I will have skink guts all over my cups and plates and utensils.
- Skink is probably hiding in my box of biscotti. Or my box of granola bars. Or in that open bag of pretzels. Do I now want to reach for a biscotto or a granola bar or some pretzels? This may be the best motivation–ever–to stay on a diet.
- Skink is probably hiding under our bed. And I will probably step on him when I get up to pee in the middle of the night. This may be bad news for my bladder.
- Skink is probably hiding in the damp bathroom, and he will run across my naked foot while I am in the shower. I remember how the movie, Psycho, freaked me out for weeks. This would be even worse. I may never bathe again.
- Skink is probably hiding in my purse. When I get to work, what if the skink comes out of my purse and runs across my desk? Will my students notice? Will I scream? Jump out of my chair? Jump on top of the chair? And will any of my students be alert enough to film this on a phone? Oh my gosh, and then post this on Youtube? The horror, the horror!
- Skink is probably hiding inside one of the many boxes full of College Boy’s dorm supplies. College Boy will probably find the skink when he unpacks these boxes in August.
- Skink is probably hiding in Gainfully Employed Daughter’s former bedroom. Remember how ET–in the movie– hid among the stuffed animals? What if the skink is posing amid all the horse figurines that remain on Daughter’s shelf? It could happen.
- Maybe we need to invite Gainfully Employed Son to come to visit for the weekend–and insist that he bring along his cat. And maybe the cat can find the skink.
- If that freaking skink insists upon staying in my house, he had better be useful and eat all the spiders and crickets that may come in from the rain.
- Do I even know what skink poop looks like?
- “Leaping lizards!” Why is that an exclamation in the English language? Could it be because lizards actually leap? So that means that skinks can leap? Oh, crap.
Monica Lists 