There's a lizard living in the closet of my sewing room.
I'm not happy about it, much as I like lizards - in their place (outside). I don't think he's too happy about it either. He probably found a door open recently due to our beautiful Spring weather and decided to explore the human habitat, not thinking, silly fellow, that the door would soon close and he'd be trapped.
I'm not a screamer but I did give a yelp and leapt backwards with surprising agility the first time I saw him. Thankfully, I saw at once that my visitor was not a snake. I can tolerate snakes in the garden, just not slithering around indoors, disappearing into inaccessible corners with no knowing when they might re-emerge and give me a heart attack. I opened the door from my sewing room to the great outdoors to entreat him to depart, keeping a wary eye lest any of his compadres decided to join him, but he was having none of it.
The standard lizard diet of insects, larvae, worms and the occasional small, hapless frog is not on offer in these premises. I would'nt like him to die in my sewing room. It's a creative place where new quilts are born and grow, albeit slowly, to quilt adulthood. I would'nt want it to be a portal to the lizard underworld. It was a mistake for him to let his curiosity lead him astray. We all know what curiosity did to the cat. We have found the occasional shrivelled, crispy tree frog or lizard inside before. It's not a big deal. No odor, no mess, but no life either, and it's so warm and sunny outside.
He really ought to avail himself of that open door. But he's not convinced. He prefers the closet where I can only hope he's not dining on fabric and patterns. For one thing, I would seriously doubt their nutritional content. I now approach my sewing machine warily as his preferred time to be out and about, visible on the light colored carpet, is when I'm not there. Soon as I approach, he scurries back to his hideout.
Meanwhile, I've absconded to the Northwest for a visit, leaving the OC and our uninvited guest to duke it out in the hallway outside the sewing room, should Mr. Lizard tire of fabric and patterns and go in search of more appealing fare. Otherwise there'll likely be a shrivelled, crispy lizard cadaver waiting for me under the sewing table when I return.
