Amphibian Adjustments

For many college graduates, moving back home is an inevitable and stressful adjustment. We've gotten used to living by our own rules, under our own roof (ok, so maybe the school or mom or dad paid for it- but you know what I mean,) with our own transportation, our own grocery lists, and our own consequences. Ah, independence.

But then, after we've gotten speeches and lectures about how we're fully responsible for ourselves and ready for the real world, we have to temporarily adjust to that post-graduation summer where we move back in to save up some cash, find a job, find a place to live, etc. All of a sudden, we have to set the dinner table, clean up after ourselves before we go to bed, hang the keys up by the door for the person leaving in the am, make sure our siblings are being responsible, and remember that our parents are parents and not just roommates.

When I come back home to the small, three-bedroom townhouse in South Florida with my parents and my two younger siblings, my make-shift bedroom that blocks off the downstairs bathroom and laundry room is an inconvenience to everybody. Not only does my mom have to pause and knock every time she switches the wash and my little brother has to ask to grab tennis balls off the storage shelves, but I have to work extra hard to keep my room presentable so guests can use the bathroom.

Well, over the past 10 days or so, I kind of let go and let my infamous pile of worn-but-not-dirty clothes stack in the corner. Tonight, (yes I am aware it's currently 4:30a.m., but I clean best after midnight,) I decided to straighten up a bit. I moved around some small furniture to make some room, cleaned up a pile of papers at the foot of my bed and then tackled my pile of laundry last. Down to the homeless hats and gloves that I brought back from my tundra-ed university, I gathered them to shove them into an empty crevice of my closet... but ended up screaming and doing a backwards somersault when I discovered a 4inch lizard jumping out of my fleece lined glove and scurrying across the hall to find another home. (Yeah, it was a gecko- and he didn't try to seduce me into buying car insurance with a British accent.)

Naive little me forgot about the climate adjustments. At school, with a can of air, I guarded the spout of a pitcher I used to trap a hairy, long-legged spider for three hours, waiting for my roommate to wake up so she could kill it because I couldn't handle the squish. In South Florida, I have to get my sister in the wee hours of the morning so she can channel her Elmyra tendencies and put them to good use.

Now, I'm itchy all over and feel really guilty about tossing, at least, an extra load of laundry onto my mom's pile- but I just can't handle the thought of those little suction-cuppy hands crawling all over my t-shirts...and who knows what else he was up to? *shiver*

Apparently there's also a rather large snake living in the rose bush on our patio.

Welcome Home.