In my family, the Jewish holidays have always been more about being together as a family (and stuffing ourselves silly) than about the religious piece. We celebrate every high holiday on the Jewish calendar…it’s just a little “different”.
With Rosh Hashana approaching, the first question asked by my child was, “Am I going to get any presents?”
I told her no and she said, “but gram always gets me presents.” (thanks mom)
“That’s true, and you are very lucky but should appreciate when you get something and not be upset if you don’t.”
“Right mom, because if I always expected it, that would make me greasy!”
“The word you’re looking for is greedy, and yes it would. Good talk.”
After hammering down the logistics for food, and figuring out times since my mother had to go from Aventura to Sunrise to pick up my grandmother, to Boca, we hatched the plan. We ate, we drank, there was enough food to feed a small army and we sat on the couch in a Brisket coma. Then my mom wanted to play a game (she always wants to play a game and it’s usually charades or something she made up in her head that nobody wants to play. My daughter hijacked the game, put her in time out and that was that.)
Usually, these family events provide more content than could ever fill a blog post. But for some reason, it was a calm night. Perhaps the calm before the storm.
It’s what happened the next day that provided the entertainment…and I was all alone for it.
Before I even delve into the post Rosh Hashana massacre, you need to know that I am petrified of lizards. Like abnormally petrified. Like I could be a guest on a Maury show when they do that cruel thing and make people face their phobias by bringing out a giant tray of marshmallows or dryer sheets or anything else that may evoke unexplained hysteria.
So, let me set the scene. I’m at my bathroom sink, putting my nighttime eyes on, to get ready for a lady date with a girlfriend in from out of town. It’s quiet, calm, some low music in the background, and I’m so ready for a glass of wine and food I didn’t have to prepare for myself.
And then…I saw it….up on the ceiling, staring at me…taunting me. It was a stand-off. And then, it made a move. A gross, scaly, BIG lizard. Scurrying across the wall, unreachable and ridiculously fast. To say that I screamed at the top of my lungs would be an understatement of epic proportions. And to say I did not cry out of raw fear would be a lie. I was a mess.
Being raised in Florida, I am no stranger to lizard intruders, but my fear never dissipates. I just can’t shake it. Maybe it’s because of their speed. Maybe it’s those weird protruding, red throats some of them have. Maybe it’s the fact that even if they die, or become detached from their tail, the tail still moves. THE TAIL STILL MOVES PEOPLE. That is effing disturbing!
So I have no plan. No idea what to do. I just start throwing stuff at it and it’s not budging. (BTDubs, in case you’re wondering the screaming and crying is still happening and you can now add sweating to the mix.) The fact that my child was not home is the ONLY reason I lost my shit. Otherwise, I would have had to put on an academy award-winning performance and then self-medicate with a glass of wine after she went to bed.
It scurries some more, and I start panicking about how the eff I am going to get it out of my house. I have visions of it disappearing and later feeling it crawling up my leg while I’m not sleeping out of paranoia.
By the grace of god, it fell (when I threw the toilet brush at it) and landed right between the wall and my small garbage can. I PANICKED and literally shoved the garbage can against the wall. Multiple times. Still screaming. It wasn’t moving but its tail was. Still in a state of panic and grabbed the closest thing I could, Kabam Scrubbing Bubbles toilet bowl cleaner, and just sprayed in that direction with my head turned.
I ran out of that bathroom and did not go back in for 15 mins. Shaking. And then it hit me. How the EFF am I going to dispose of the body?????? I need a cleaner. And quick. Boyfriend offered to come up (after he stopped laughing uncontrollably), but he lived to far and I needed it out now before lizard ghosts started plotting my demise. So, I did what any gal in a tech-driven society would do – I posted a public plea for help on Facebook.
In minutes I had an offer. My neighbor was at my door faster than you could kill a lizard, not judging, ready to assist. I’ve never really had a mess like this so I didn’t know what he would need. I felt like Dexter rifling through my kitchen grabbing paper towels, garbage bags, lysol. He entered the scene of the lizardcide and assessed the damage.
“I’m gonna need a cup and a scooper of some sort,” he says.
I hand him a purple solo cup and a plastic spoon like a nurse providing a scalpel during a boob job.
It was quick. I was waiting outside the door. He told me it was done.
My fear was replaced with relief, and I paid him in Kugel. It was worth every noodle.
And that was the time I murdered a lizard, hired an accomplice and paid with Rosh Hashana leftovers. It was a Happy New year for all (except the lizard, but I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to defend yourself against an intruder).
Thank god Yom Kippur is around the corner and I can repent for my behavior.