The first time I saw one in the house, I was walking into the kitchen, flipped on the light and a little, green lizard ran across the cabinets and into the silverware drawer! Gah, it still makes me shiver to think about. I went out for dinner and refused to go near the kitchen for the rest of the night. When my roommate got home, I met her at the door. I said, "Kris, I have some terrifying news. . . There was a lizard in the kitchen." She replied "Yeah, I see them in there all the time. There's one that lives under the couch too!" I almost had a heart attack. For a week, every time something fell on to the floor, I would jump a foot in the air. I mean, a crumb from my sandwich would drop and I would scream and jump back. It was bad.
Well, I have learned to live in peace with the lizards. . . kind of. I just stomp really loudly when I go to the kitchen, so that they have time to run and hide before I get there and I can pretend that they're not there. Then I turn on the light and wait for them to make any final arrangements before I walk in. . . I can't bear the thought of one running across my foot. And when I hear ANY noise at night as I'm falling asleep (barking dogs, the elevator, regular night noises, etc.) I think "I wonder if that was a lizard??" The other night, I was in the kitchen and there was one in the corner a few mere inches away from Kris' foot. I took the opportunity to take a few pictures. Of course, I took the pictures standing on top of a kitchen chair while screaming and begging her to do something with it.
