Lizard Tale

Because spiders aren’t enough to contend with, now Australia has thrown lizards, or geckos as they’re more commonly referred to as, right in our faces.

We noticed him the other night, minding his own business on the wall. After consulting with her sister, Meredith felt assured that he would not harm us. He was, in fact, only about three inches long. And kind of cute, actually. Then he disappeared. Meredith covered a hole we thought he was getting in and out of.

Well how come tonight I saw him again? Chillin’ like a reptile chills when he’s on a wall? I felt confident. I was going to scare him back into the hole he came from.

I moved toward him and he ran down the wall, finding solace behind the ironing board. So I tapped, tapped and tapped some more on the board until it finally drove him out from behind it. Standing next to the fridge, he cowered, waiting till my next move. I could think of nothing else to do but head in his direction, hoping he’d consider exiting under the front door. So I did. And he didn’t. Instead, he scurried beneath my feet to places that are currently unknown. (I will admit to a muffled shriek. Meredith, as though nothing was wrong, was asleep.)

Despite knowing better, I feel like he is perpetually scaling my leg. Good stuff.

A Clean in Lismore

Meredith and I went to Lismore yesterday to clean her apartment. Most of the cleaning she did was the brush around the perimeter of the unit, as well as going over the stuff I said I cleaned. (I’ve never exercised attention to detail when it comes to cleaning; I can admit this.)

The only thing I can really say for certain about Lismore is that it goddamn loves its spiders. For the love of god. Since I’ve been here, I’ve encountered them in lettuce and closets and yesterday found one — about a foot in width and length and height and all that — hanging on its web between two trees. It also had little satellite spiders chilling on the either side of it and one in front. It was like the big one was the god spider and the others were its underlings sent to catch gnats for dinner and then were to later become dinner themselves.

We finally headed out with a dresser and other random items in tow that we couldn’t get rid of. On the way home, we stopped off to go to the store, taking advantage of the fact that we had a car for the day. We whipped through three aisles before the store closed and headed back to the car.

I have to say here that something I noticed — and very much appreciate — about Australia is its catalog fetish. Everywhere you go, it seems, you can pick up a catalog. Usually it will be a four-color, well-designed affair highlighting the particular store’s best items. The grocery store had one last night. I picked it up, because I love a catalog.

Back to the car, Meredith and I headed, I with the lone grocery bag in hand, she with the keys. I opened the back passenger door to put the bag in next to the dresser and there, attempting to scurry away but change its mind because somehow it knows I am afraid of it, is ANOTHER SPIDER! It’s getting really very old. I get it, Australia. You love a spider. I bow to you. Now get over it.

I called Meredith over and, well, she doesn’t like ‘em much, either, so we both kind of stared at it, hoping it would just jump off onto the ground and go on its merry way. No. Instead, it ran up toward the top of the door. I, thinking it was officially out of the car, shut the door in a panic. I shut it right up in there. So I opened it again, hoping it hadn’t gone back into the car, because if that were to happen, Meredith and I would have had to sleep in the parking lot car park. Thankfully, it was still there and used its new freedom to scurry up to the roof then down to the windshield wind screen. Fuck.

We followed it around and around the car, with grocery store employees (two of them) watching us from afar. At one point, the spider, having made its way back onto the wind screen, kind of looked like it got up on all eight of its tip toes. Or tip legs. Whatever. And it just stood there. Probably staring at the both of us at the same time — me one one side of the car and Meredith on the other. Finally, it ran back to the original site of the car, and I took the catalog from the grocery store and, in one motion, took a big step, raised my right arm, and swiped at it. We flew into the car, did a quick check (though I’m not sure that was such a good idea, because, really, what would we have done had we spotted more of them?) and went on our way freaking out and scratching the phantom spiders we felt on our arms, necks, and legs.

I’m over the spiders. Oh, and the apartment’s totally clean. No more Lismore. The End.

All I Wanted Was Some Lettuce

I love a salad. A really big, meaty, full-of-protein-and-all-that-stuff salad. And, of course, it’s got to have Paul Newman’s Light Balsamic Vinaigrette dressing (which they have here).

I have mostly chosen to the go the plastic bag route, because the sight of little worms and things is a bit jarring when I know I’m about to devour it. I know it’s all natural and organic, but I just don’t want to eat bugs. The dirt is fine. I get that. But I don’t trust myself to wash it thoroughly enough to remove the living things. The other night, I had decided to choose the non-bag stuff, determined to clean it, confident that there would be no bugs.

There were bugs.

Denial Doesn’t Work

After two weeks, three plane rides, a multitude of airport personnel, numerous lines, rental cars, and one really very nice Northridge, Calif., hotel, Meredith and I arrived in Lismore, NSW, Australia.

I’m dripping with sweat from the humidity, which I’ll take over the snow of Brooklyn any day, actually. I was geared up to write a long-ass post, but why try to take care of it all at once, I say. I’m minutes away from heading outside to go do something Australian with my new sunglasses on (apparently the sun is more intense down here). But before that, I’d like to tell a little story.

Fears

There is something I’ve been wanting to write about now for a few weeks — maybe even a month. I haven’t been able to get my head around it, though. I think it was out of fear of what it really meant. Like if I brought attention to it, then it would become worse and be completely out of my control. But I’ve decided to address the issue here and now, because whether I bring it up or not, it will eventually be too big anyway.

Fears

There is something I’ve been wanting to write about now for a few weeks — maybe even a month. I haven’t been able to get my head around it, though. I think it was out of fear of what it really meant. Like if I brought attention to it, then it would become worse and be completely out of my control. But I’ve decided to address the issue here and now, because whether I bring it up or not, it will eventually be too big anyway.

Enough with the Arachnids

I decided to overlook the first spider I killed, which happened before I even moved in. It was a little one and it was of one of those jumping varieties. I decided to overlook the second jumper I saw, as well, because, although it was on my property, it was just outside the front of the door. I spared its life because I figured it wasn’t doing me any harm by being out there.

Last week, I came into my room and took off my shoes. I looked down and chillin’ there like it belonged was this huge-ass light brown (almost see-through) spider. My heart began to race out of fear and then shock that I was faced with such a creature. I killed it. I didn’t want to. I usually have other people do it, because I simply cannot handle those fucking things. Erin did it wonderfully for two and a half years (actually, she saved them most of the time). And being 13 floors up in good ‘ol William St. last year freed me from having to worry about such things. Well, I’m spared no longer.