Today I was vacuuming in our room (It happens sometimes! It does!), and I moved Maggie's bed. And there it was, right under the bed. A gecko. Darn it, geckos, why don't you stay hidden? OR OUTSIDE? WHY DO YOU TORTURE ME SO?
I'm not going to lie, I screamed. Like a girl.
He scurried off before I had a chance to put on my brave face and try to trap him (I'm a regular Navy Seal these days, let me tell you). And there he went. Right under the bed. Under my side of the bed.
And then I died.
Well, I didn't yet, but I'm pretty sure I will later if Jack doesn't find it when he gets home. Because it's a real live MONSTER under my bed! FOR SERIOUS!!
I do not seek out geckos if they go into hiding. I'll stand there for hours and stare at the spot it went to make sure it doesn't get away, sure, but I have to be rational about this - if I get down on my hands and knees and stick my head under the bed skirt, there's a 98% chance that the depraved gecko will jump out at me with a tiny pair of nun chucks. And I'm no dummy, people; I'm not going to leave myself open for that kind of attack.
So let's just say Jack's evening just got a little more complicated.
You marry the crazy with the good, people.
(And before you feel too bad for him, let's not forget his thing about the toilet paper. We give and take the crazy in this marriage; don't you worry about that.)
So anyway, I'm already a little on edge sitting by myself and waiting for the gecko catcher to get home, knowing the gecko in my room is setting tiny booby traps around my bed in the meantime, when I hear this weird tapping on my window. And I'm thinking "the geckos are trying to get in and get me!" and then "Ha! HAHAHA! Geckos! Trying to get in! Let's rein in the madness a little, okay, Mandy's brain?"
And then I look over at the window, and I see another gecko out there, just stuck to it. (Which, by the way, is unnatural in and of itself and just one more piece of evidence of their turpitude.) And this one's a big one, probably the length of my middle finger. Which is ironic, because geckos are just one giant middle finger in my life, now aren't they?
So I'm looking at this giant gecko, stuck to the outside of my window, and all of the sudden, I see him vibrate his head back and forth against the window.
As in, the gecko was, in fact, actually the one tapping on the window.
I was fixated on this gecko, thanking God that the thing was on the outside of the window. As I stared, it did it again. And again. I'm surprised it didn't knock itself out on the glass. Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap... and every tap was its head slamming against the window.
I'm pretty sure it was trying to break the window. So that it could get inside. And murder me. That's really the only logical explanation.
And if that's not supposed to freak me out, I don't know what is.