So, I had a visitor the other morning.
Not, of course, in the human sense. Visitations of the human variety don't often rank up with what I consider to be blog-worthy material.
(Admittedly, however... Me, personally, receiving any sort of personal visit at this juncture might be so completely unexpected and out of the ordinary as to merit some mention... Um.)
It was a lizard. From the desert.
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| A colorful one at that. |
There he is. Hey, little dude.
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| Places to go, concrete to cover. |
Now, I'm sure you're aware that a lizard in the desert is not, usually, a note-worthy occurrence.
A lizard on the porch? Maybe.
A lizard
on my window sill scrabbling for entry? Yea, we have news here people.
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| Yo. |
... so I may be blowing it a little out of proportion, excitement-wise, but hey. Wild animals are cool.
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| Yea, you're a regular ninja with that camera, man. |
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| Dude's a budding interpretive dancer. |
Anyway. As he came, lingered, then inexplicably left all in the space of a Monday morning, I have yet to discover what, exactly, he was doing. Lizards aren't very good with that whole courtesy note thing.
Hi,
Nice window you got here. Just thought I'd drop by, look around. Maybe chill in the shade for a bit.
You should probably change out that toothbrush, you know.
Sorry to disturb.
-The Lizard
Not so much. Writing must be a real bitch without thumbs, after all.
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| Toodles. |
Thus, left, as I am, bereft of any sort of explanation for this reptile's strange behavior, I am forced (yes, forced) to come up with some hypotheses.
And hey, who am I supposed to share them with?
....The Dalai Lama isn't returning my calls, so second choice it is.
Theory 1
The lizard was hot, and the shade of the porch combined with (maybe?) some residual air-conditioning coolness creeping out the windows made my sill the idyllic little reptile getaway for a mid-morning break.
Boring? Utterly. Plausible? Sadly. Reality has a distressing lack of imagination, sometimes.
... it also has a certain negative connotation when it comes to energy efficient window moorings. Hm.
Theory 2
The lizard was the designated explorer of his people, sent out to investigate the strange, flat shiny thing wedged into what, for all lizard intents and purposes, is no more than a large, funny-shaped rock that large pink things go in and out of regularly.
He was to examine, take notes, and report back immediately should this turn out to be of more interest or use than "oh, yea, that shiny thing."
More interesting? Yes. Plausible? I don't know, I am not at all familiar with lizard infrastructure. You tell me, mister fancy-pants herpetologist.
Theory 3
This lizard was, in fact, the Harbinger of Doom and Prophet of Despair.
This was, after all, the morning of the day when I received my "Congratulations on being an alternate!" letter from MEXT. Maybe he was trying to warn me. Or, conversely, had mistimed his arrival to revel in my personal Doom and Despair. Sucks to be him, then.
I'm... not going to touch this one. I don't like the idea of my fate being handled behind beady black eyes and decorative head-crests.
Theory 4
The lizard was
not, in fact, a lizard at all, but was a beautiful man who had been cruelly
transformed into a small reptile against his will by an evil force bent on stealing his power and wealth! While I was busy taking picture and marveling at nature, I was in fact dooming a man to live a cold-blooded life forevermore and missing out on the beginning of my very own personal 少女 (shoujo, girl)
manga adventure!
...
NOOO DON PABLO!*
(It's a 少女 manga, after all, so he's delightfully, if inexplicably and unreasonably, European. No, no, don't ask why, that just ruins it.)
Who knew that my camera would be such a horrible sealer of fates. The Luddites may have a point.
*This is actually Jang Keun-Suk, or チャン・グンソク (Chan Gunsok, kinda) as I first knew him (Japanese does strange things to Korean names. Or maybe English does. My Korean pronunciation is absolute rubbish, someone want to help me out? Here's the Hangul: 장근석) He was appearing on the cover of everything in late April of this year in Japan, and I credit him with being the prettiest man alive. I mean seriously. Look at him. Good lord.
In the end, we will likely never know why, exactly, a random lizard decided to crawl onto my porch, camp out for a bit, and peep into my bathroom.
But without rampant and at times unnecessary imagination, where would
my blog posts humanity be?
This is Edo, signing off wondering how many herpetologists actually read her blog and are currently tearing out their hair in frustration at her willful ignorance.
