Where there should be no movement.
I turned around in the general direction of said movement, expecting it to be... hell, I don't know what I expected it to be, really, and then...
And then I saw it.
In MY bathroom.
Ok, so let me back up here a minute. I'm not a scaredy cat kind of gal. I kill spiders, shoo away wasps, love the dark, don't mind closed spaces, love thunderstorms, welcome pain, and think of germs as a challenge.
But it's the beady eyes, I think. They get me EVERY time. Or maybe it's the darting tongue. Shudder...
Anyway, there was a bit of a standoff between me and LIZARD (yes, it was big. Huge. GIGANTIC.) as I tried to think of a way past it and out the door. Finally, I was able to get out and slam the door shut, only to realize that there was a one inch gap under the door, and even though this thing was WAY bigger than that - huge. GIGANTIC - that maybe, just maybe it could squeeze under the door.
So I grabbed the closest thing available - this X-Men beach towel (yes, we have those strategically placed all over the house, thank you very much) and stuffed it under the door.
Then I did what any self-respecting lizard hater would do - I texted RJ, who was at work.
ME: "There's an effing lizard in the effing bathroom."
HIM: "That's effing great." Then a few minutes later: "How did it get in there?"
Ummm... it teleported? It used its magical bathroom habitation spell? I don't know how it got in there. I only cared that it WAS in there, and I was out here, and I saw no real way out of this mess any way soon.
So I did what any sane person would do. I sat myself down in front of the door, close enough to see if the Komodo Dragon escaped, but not close enough for it to touch me if it did indeed come bursting out through the closed door.
About that time Zachary wandered by. "Why's my towel under the bathroom door?" he asked.
I debated for about a minute telling him the truth and asking him to retrieve the giant scary lizard for me, as I'm sure he would, but then it occurred to me that it might be a REALLY, REALLY bad idea for him to know my weakness. I can just envision a scenario involving a flesh-eating reptile being left in my bed as a "joke."
"I cleaned in there. It smells like cleaner. Leave it alone. DON'T TOUCH IT. IT'S REALLY STRONG CLEANER! DON'T USE THAT BATHROOM. DON'T EVEN GO NEAR IT! IT MIGHT BURN YOUR EYES AND MAKE YOUR BLIND. UNDERSTAND?"
Nothing like a little white lie to put him off housework for life.
He looked at me like I was insane - which I guess was pretty accurate - then wandered off to play superheroes or Pokemon or whatever little boy games he had on his mind. Actually, I'm not sure what he and Cooper were doing for the next four hours or so, because, HELLO! - somebody's got to guard the lizard.
Finally, after what seemed like decades, RJ came home from work. "Go upstairs," he said. "You don't need to watch this."
It wasn't until after he yelled up to me "Ok, you can come down now! I got it! It's outside!" that it occurred to me just how easy it would have been for him to SAY he got it, even if he didn't. He went on to say that it was stuck in the towel and he was "99% sure" he shook it out on the front porch, and that he was "nearly positive" that he saw it run under the front porch.
Now the lizard was causing trust issues in my marriage.
So just to be safe - not because I think RJ would ever lie to me about such a thing - I decided to never, ever, ever, as long as I live go in that bathroom again. It's ok though. I have other options. Like going outside. I was kind of sad, because I love love love that bathroom, but sometimes sacrifices need to be made.
So several days passed and I carefully avoided that bathroom at all costs.
Then one day as I was walking out the front door to check the mail, I saw it.
On my front porch.
Big as life.
Beady eyes staring, quietly plotting his reentry into my house.
It was the effing lizard, on my front porch, just like RJ had said.
So I came back inside and used my bathroom with glee. Twice, just for good measure.
Too bad about the mail though.
It's kinda piling up.