What is that saying about good deeds and punishment?

(I flashed the blog on Thursday for the first time in ages. Did you miss it? Scroll down to previous post.)

After a majorly shiteous week, I was sooooo grateful for 5pm Friday to come. I got home about 5:15pm, called my Sweetpea, and he tells me he is going to be working late (like, 10pm kind of late).

While on the phone, I see a lizard on one of my kitchen chairs. I tell hub I am going to release the lizard in to the wild. He laughs. We hang up.

I'm girly. I don't touch bugs, lizards, or anything that slithers about without legs. I do think lizards, especially this one, are cute though.

So.

A dilemma.

How do I save the lizard? How do I get him out the door without touching him?

Ah HA! I've got it!!! I will drag the chair to the door. He will leap off on to the grass, and my good deed is done!

I open the door, drag the chair over, and that little green varmit just sits there, blinking at me.

"SHOO!", I yell.

No reaction. Nada. Zilch.

"Do you want to get eaten by the dog?!?! SHOO! SCRAM! You must ESCAPE!", I yell.

Well this just isn't working.

I try pushing him off the chair with a magazine.

He moves about an inch and just blinks at me.

Bugger.

I need a new plan. The dog is getting curious. I don't have much time left.

Ah-HA! I've got it! If I drag the chair outside and tump the chair on it's side, THEN he will jump off!

So outside go me, the lizard and the chair, quickly followed my 100 pound golden retriever. Apparently Lars has some business of his own to take care of.

I'm tumping, shaking, rolling that damn chair, and the lizard is just looking at me like "Huh? What? Can I help you, you deranged lady?". Perhaps he had been inhaling the neighbors' weed smoke. This was one seriously laid back lizard.

At this point, I'm really getting frustrated.

The dog senses it, and gallops over to investigate. He sees the lizard, and tries to eat the damn thing. GRRRRR!

"YOU WILL NOT KILL THIS LIZARD! BACK! BACK, YOU BEASTIE!"

I push the dog inside, and pull the door shut.

I go back to work on the lizard, and finally, FINALLY, he gets tired of me and meanders down the leg of the chair and head's off to hunt for bugs (surely he has the munchies from all that weed smoke, right?).

Whew. Thank god.

So, after about 30 seconds of feeling rather pleased at myself, I go to turn the knob on the back door.

It won't turn. Why isn't it turning? What the......

Oh. My. Gawd.

I have locked myself outside of my house. Hub won't be home for at least four hours. Fuck!

Ok, maybe the neighbors are home. I need a phone. Get to a phone.

Apparently all of my neighbors went out at the same time, because NO ONE is home.

I go back in to my backyard to sit on my kitchen chair and think. The dog is freaking out because he can't get to me.

The events of the day, events of my awful week, ALL OF IT, hits me like a freight train. I fucking LOSE it.

The dog is crying INSIDE the house. I am crying OUTSIDE the house.

What the hell do I do? *sob*

I stand up, and eye the chair.

If I throw the chair through the window, will hub be angry? Will Lars get hurt by flying glass? Will I cut myself? Probably so.

I'm starting to shake. I think it's the cold. Yeah, it's the cold. Sure.

I wander back around and sit in my driveway. I sit there for a loooooong time. I notice the moon is full.

It's official. I'm cursed.

I'm staring up in to the sky counting some balloons that are floating across the night. I vaguely remember wondering who the heck was releasing balloons in the dark...?...I wonder if they have a cell phone...?...when......The Wee General (next door neighbor, physical trainer, occasional make out partner) finally drives up.

"Blondage??? Uhmmm.... Why are you sitting on your driveway in the dark staring at the sky?".

I sob.

She freaks.

"C-c-c-c-can I p-p-p-p-lease use your *sob* ph-ph-phone?"

"Blondage! WTF is WRONG!!!!"

"The lizard. I saaaaaaved it from the jaws of d-d-d-death!"

"What?!!?!"

"The dog! I s-s-s-saved it *sob* from the dog *sob* and I shut the DOOR!"

"Blondage, I'm lost."

"I'm locked out of the HOUSE!".

She looks at me.....jaw drops.....I can tell she is fighting a smile....

"You are locked out of your house because of a......lizard?"

"Yes. *sob*".

"Wine. You need wine."

Soooo.....she drags me in to her house, I call my husband and beg him to rescue me, and TWG forces wine down my throat.

Hub shows up about 45 minutes later. I see him, and immediately burst in to tears, yet again. He hugs me. I can feel him laughing, so I pinch him. He pets me, and calms me down.

I start at the beginning, and tell my tale of woe. We figure out that I was locked outside for almost three hours.

I babble. I cry. He manages to only laugh twice, but he looks like he is in pain.

With a look on his face that is one part sympathy, one part irony, and two parts humor.....he informs me that the lizard would have been safer inside the house. The next day he plans to mow the yard.

My stubborn, stoned lizard...

...that I SUFFERED for...

...that I bawled my eyes out over...

...who completely traumatized me...

...was probably (weed) whacked and hacked to death about an hour ago.