House lizards mortally scare the daylights out of me. Their minuscule talons clinging onto the wall holding the entire weight of their walnut colored gloppy body. Ewww. And there is more: I don’t trust them. It’s because I don’t know what is going on in their heads – if they have any, that is. Many a people say that lizards hardly fall down from the walls. Absolute bunkum, this! With my own buffed eyes have I witnessed them tumbling onto the ground with a deafening thud! Also, the whole hang-eggshells-from-the-ceiling thing doesn’t work. Preposterous solutions to such a grave issue!
However, in such desperate situations, what I do is pull up all my furniture away from the walls and subconsciously indulge in liturgical prayers to the Lord so that at least the creatures won’t start slinking on my marble floor. Believe you me; I’ve witnessed them on the floor too! As a preliminary precaution, I always keep a broom with a long staff in my room. Keyword: ALWAYS. (And as a secondary provision, I also keep a wedged heel incase the former measure fails)
I loathe summers because of these creepy-crawlies. They come scuttling out, feeding on one another, scaring the wits out of people like me. Roaches are something I can narrowly put up with. Same goes for the under winged moths that are drawn to the light inexplicably (insert quixotic analogy here). And since I’ve never grappled with a snake, they can be put out of context with much ease. I can easily abuse spiders and squish them under flip-flops. I’m such a callous bitch, hence I’ll stop now.
I just harked back to the time when I read James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl. The kid had to cohabit with bugs/pests etc – absolute baloney if you ask me! And here I go bearing animosity again. Hah!
Over and out.