The Tail of Party Gecko
As the great Sigrid sings, “Wallowing in it would be such a waste; that isn’t gonna fix it anyways.” But sometimes, a girl just needs to wallow. If only for an hour.
This is a three-part Wallow, with the best content in part three. But, the story deserves some build up if you have the time to read all three parts:
Part One: Christina Fails at Taking Out Garbage.
This part is kind of boring, and will mostly make you feel like I don’t have major life problems and should shut up about the worlds’ most minor inconvenience.
Part Two: Christina Awkwardly Makes a Dermatology Appointment.
This part will make you feel better after reading me complain about the epitome of first world problems because I make an idiot of myself. You will say, “Serves her right! Complaining about not taking out the garbage like it’s a real problem. Ooooh it’s cold and you don’t want to get out of bed? People are dying, Christina!” But, you may also find yourself relating to the fact that making a doctor’s appointment is very annoying.
Part Three: Christina Fights Party Gecko.
Now, this is the best part of the story, if you ask me, even though you didn’t. But you are reading this blog so…. didn’t you kind of ask me? Whatever. Read it or don’t.
Part 1
Christina Fails at Taking Out Garbage.
This morning, I woke up on a mission. I had three free work days before I started my new job, and I wanted to make the most of them. Except, it was raining and cold. And my bed was comfy and warm. Not even the promise of pumpkin spice pancakes could motivate me out of bed before 8 a.m.
Finally, hunger and thirst overrode my cozy cocoon. I made myself breakfast, caught up on some daily podcasts, and didn’t hate my life.
Until I remembered it’s garbage day and I hadn’t moved the cans to the curb.
Which normally, no biggie, except I had 10 bags of garden trash I’ve been trying to throw away for a week now. I opened my garage door to the sound of the garbage truck rumbling past my house. Cool beans. Strike one.
Part 2
Christina Awkwardly Makes a Dermatology Appointment.
Back on the productivity train, I decided to once and for all set an appointment to deal with my weird lip issue.
Important Plot Information:
During my month long trip to Europe, some combination of sun, food, and stress caused a minor lip rash. You can’t even really tell in photos, or in person, but my lips constantly felt itchy, weird, and chapped. Feel. Because even though I’ve been back in the country for two months now, I’m still dealing with it.
So, I call one dermatology office. After a lengthy game of “what number do I press to get an appointment?” I finally gave up and tried another dermatology office. This time, I got a helpful person (hooray!) and then had to play the “how do I get an appointment without being the world’s most awkward person?” game. Oh, you can bet I failed that one.
Receptionist: “What kind of appointment do you need?”
Christina Being Awkward, a Recreation.
Me: “Uh… are you asking why I’m coming in for an appointment?”
Receptionist: “…Yes.”
Me: “Oh. I have a weird lip rash. Sorry, that would just be such a strange answer to a different question.”
Receptionist: “Ok. And how long have you had the rash?”
Me: *calculating in my head, slow realization, overwhelming embarrassment* “…..three months.”
Me, internally: “How dare you make me admit that out loud.”
Of course they can help me, BUT their earliest appointment is December 9th. Cool beans. Strike two.
Part 3
Christina Fights Party Gecko.
While sitting on my couch, I noticed a stick on my leggings. I went to brush it off and THE STICK MOVED. It was a gecko. I had a minor freak out, but thankfully I was conditioned beyond fearing geckos by my Aunt Barbara, who told Child Christina they threw parties when I wasn’t around.
All right. New mission: save Party Gecko.
I’m gonna let you guess how that turned out. After several coaxing tries, Party Gecko disappeared from view, and I gave up. Resigned myself to a future day where I would find Dead Party Gecko somewhere I least expected it, and anticipated that my scream would likely scare my husband (a minor consolation prize to living with a dead gecko for several months to a year).
Instead of searching for the gecko, I decided to google my lip rash for awhile, and text my husband about my No Good Bad Day in hopes he would make sad, pitying noises. That always cheers me up. Instead, he tried to be helpful, the jerk. I left my phone for one last attempt to find the gecko. Success! I returned to my couch and frantically googled “how to catch gecko in house” (shout out to Google, teaching me just-in-time life skills I should have learned long before I turned 33).
Armed with tupperware and a sunset-themed cardstock advertisement, I pounced on Party Gecko. For a brief moment, I felt the glow of adulty achievement. I saw the gecko’s twitchy tail, and moved to slide the ad underneath. Only to realize the gecko was gone. I had caught ONLY his twitchy tail. My body fought nausea and tears. I felt the sting of my good intentions meeting my lousy follow through. I felt like the world’s biggest jerk. Party Gecko didn’t know I meant to save him. I thought I was Awesome Gecko Hero. He thought I was Big Scary Predator. And now, I’d confirmed it.
I returned to my couch to google if gecko tails grow back. The results were mixed. I imagined how deep of a hole I should dig in my backyard to cover my shame.
Finally, in the wisdom of Sigrid, I decided to go back for one more try. I was going to save the gecko if it killed me. Or him. More likely, him. Yeah. So much for the best of intentions.
Meanwhile, the gecko’s tail was still twitching. Feeding my guilt.
Ignoring the tail still stuck to the side of the tupperware, I went back for capture attempt #2. Ok I could not ignore the tail at this point. I thought to myself, “WHAT KIND OF MONSTER AM I?? I am trying to capture this gecko with the trophy of his tail stuck to my makeshift prison?”
Whatever. That time I truly succeeded. I quickly moved the gecko to the backdoor, and, on second thought, I paused my rescue attempt to take a photo. Pics or it didn’t happen, amiright?
Finally, I take Party Gecko outside. I was relieved to see inside his cage that he really did have a good portion of his tail left. I thought, “He will live to party again!”
To make up for the trauma I’d caused, I even took the gecko out into my yard instead of my paved patio, braving the rain so he could place his little feetsies on grass once more.
I removed the tupperware. Party Gecko sat still on the sunset-themed ad. I placed the ad on the grass. And then that little jerk ran right back to my leg. I had a screaming argument with the gecko over its stupidity, a fight with the tail stuck to the tupperware, and an explitive-laden threat to the gecko should he re-think coming into MY HOUSE, before running back inside, suddenly guilt-free about the whole experience. NO strike three. I did my best. Party Gecko can suck it. He’s free. He has most of his tail left. And he got to scare me right back. I’m calling this a win.
Ok! Wallow session over. If you’d like to laugh at a previous gecko-saving experience, I’ve reposted a blog I wrote in May of 2013. Enjoy.
