Well, I finally did it. I held a lizard in the palm of my hand.
I'm getting ahead of myself though - let's back up and start at the beginning.
On Friday afternoon I pulled a load of laundry out of the dryer and carried it into the living room. I plopped down on the couch, turned on The Ellen Show, and began folding. Midway through the basket, I noticed a grayish-brown long, slender, and somewhat misshapen object resting on a pair of Will's shorts. Assuming it was a stick or an action figure accessory - which made sense, given its proximity to Will's shorts pocket - I picked it up. In my hand it felt more fragile than a stick and crustier than a miniature sword, so I turned on the lamp next to me to get a closer look.
Imagine my shock - terror, really - when I realized that in my palm I held a thoroughly dried and positively dead lizard.
I screamed, and hurled the lizard across the room. He didn't stay across the room though - he bounced off the ottoman and came right back at me, landing just a few feet away from my laundry folding station. I couldn't bear to pick him up a second time, so I bribed Hallie to cover him with a paper towel. He remained under his paper towel blanket until Tom came home.
There are so many questions here. If the lizard went through the dryer, did he climb into the dryer on his own or did he go through the washing machine first? And if he went through the washing machine first, did he climb in on his own or did he get carried there in a pile of clothes? And if he was carried there in a pile of clothes - dead or ALIVE - did I carry him there?!
It was, and continues to be, just a little too much for me to handle on a Friday afternoon.
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