As I stood there, yawning and scratching and being generally lady-like, something caught my eye. I turned my head slightly, and came nose-to-nose with a giant lizard, clinging to the sheer fabric that serves as my closet door.
Now, I am a strong, modern woman, and as such I let out a strong, modern shriek before backing into a shoe rack. It was then I realized I was stuck, since the lizard was essentially guarding my only exit.
Eventually I managed to shield myself with the fabric's edge and sidle by, escaping almost certain death by lizard ambush.
I was still shirtless, but now VERY awake, so I did the only sensible thing:
I grabbed my phone, screwed up my courage, and stuck an arm back through the curtain to get a picture.
Because pics or it didn't happen, that's why.
Here's where it gets really bad:
I was just considering doing something tragically heroic, when the lizard made a sudden, dramatic leap ONTO MY HANGING CLOTHES, skittered down a ways, and disappeared into the t-shirts.
Text to John: "A lizard just jumped into my hanging clothes in the closet. Time to burn down the house."
What actually followed was three tense days of paranoia, with John dutifully searching my closet several times a day, me triple-checking the bathroom before every use, and the cats being utterly useless.
"You want us to do what now?"
"Verra busy. Come back laterzzzzzz."
Then, on the third day, EUREKA! But here, you have to hear this in John's own words:
This update was a big hit with our FB friends, and my CW co-writer Sharyn even immortalized it in song:
So, to sum up: after a mad dash that destroyed much of my closet, John *did* catch the lizard, and safely released him outside to join all his lizardy kin.
I like to think the lizard is updating his own Facebook right now, with tales of screechy giants, soft clothes caverns, and utterly useless cats.