communing with nature

So last night I was on the front porch trying to get a gecko out of the toaster, and Pippi said to me, "This is ridiculous."

I poked inside the toaster with my fork. "What do you mean?"

"At this moment, we have a cat under the floorboards, a big hairy spider in a cup on the bathroom floor - "

(The original plan was to slide a piece of paper under the cup and transport the spider outside, but Pippi lost her nerve. That was two days ago. Every time one of us uses the bathroom, we remind each other, "Don't kick the spider!")

" - cobras in our front yard - "

(The women harvested the rice from the field in front of our house a couple weeks ago, and all the snakes that had been living there fled to the field behind our house. A couple days later, they harvested that field, and the snakes slithered away to yet another field. A couple days later, they harvested that field, and - well, you get the idea. We stomp real loud when we walk anywhere at night.)

" - a frog in our toilet water - "

(We're supposed to use the water from the bathroom sink, which flows directly into a cement container, to flush the toilet. The only problem is, the water is stagnant and dirty and it stinks, and so Pippi and I have been trying to dry out the container by using the kitchen sink for all necessary ablutions. Don't get your eco-friendly hemp panties in a twist - the kitchen sink water goes into the irrigation ditch, so we're still not really wasting water. Besides, there's a frog in there! As if sticking my arm into a dark, smelly hole in the wall wasn't bad enough, now I have to dodge toothpaste-spattered frogs while I'm at it.)

" - and now we've got a gecko in the toaster." She watched critically as I banged on the outside of the toaster, resulting in a terrific racket, but no gecko. "Just leave it."

"You're the one who wanted toast."

"It's too scared. It's not coming out. Just leave the toaster out here overnight."

I pointed the fork at her. "We are not having a repeat of the spider incident. We cannot live like this. This gecko is coming out now."

"It's just going to climb back up to the roof," she said.

True. The geckos sit for hours on our ceiling, but they have a nasty habit of abruptly losing their grip and plummeting to the floor - or into your cup of tea.

"Fucking geckos," I muttered. Another jab with the fork, and suddenly I heard a flutter of movement inside the toaster, the pitter-patter of little scaly feet. I dropped the toaster onto its side, and the gecko sprang out and disappeared under the house.

"Well, that's done," Pippi said. She stood up and stretched, then headed for the fridge. "Toast?"

"It's going to taste like lizard," I said, scooping up the toaster and wiping the fork off on my jeans.

"We've got butter."

"Lizard toast. Gross."

Pippi rummaged around in the fridge. "And Nutella."

"Yeah, okay."