Lizzy

It really wasn't the most auspicious of beginnings. She fell right on top of me and we both screamed. At least I did, and think she did too. Well, lizards are not my favourite living creatures and so I spent the next couple of days tip-toeing around the house, praying I would not bump into her again.

The next encounter with the creepy kind came when I was least expecting it. Cleaning out the fridge, I had a feeling that I was being stared at. And yes, there she was, perched on top of my kitchen platform, watching me unblinkingly. The screech that followed would have done a macaw proud, but she seemed totally unaffected.

Since then, I have seen her at various points of time, strolling across my floor with a nonchalant attitude, soaking herself in the kitchen sink, making my walls her hunting grounds and tight-rope-walking across my clothes-line.
She has made her home behind my book shelf and occasionally visits other nooks and crannies around the apartment.

I have grown accustomed to her now. I call her Lizzy, and although we are not the best of friends, we have grown to tolerate each other. She knows she has to scamper once I am home and I turn a Nelson's eye to her midnight meanderings. During the day, I stay off the walls and she, off the floor. It is a good thing we have going, Lizzy and I. Mutual respect and (physical) distance does make the heart grow fonder. And who doesn't love a bug-free home?

So, all's forgiven Liz, stay on, walk my walls. Just a request, could you chip in on the rent? ;-)