Sometimes my roommate and I talk about how our lives would make a much better reality t.v. show than the ones actually on air (although, it's been so long since either of us have watched any live t.v. that maybe our opinions don't count).
Today was a pretty good episode. After a long day of school, I dropped by the Health Center to pick up Emily's newly prescribed medications. Nothing terribly shocking - just her second bout of giardia in the last 4 months. (Her experience at the Health Center could be an episode in and of itself, but I'll let her tell that story...) Once home, I chatted with our ayah (maid) about how her 18-year old daughter was just diagnosed with "brain-worm" (I'm sure there is a more official term, but "brain-worm" sums it up pretty well). Giardia pales in comparison when you put it in perspective to brain-worm.
After that, we had a good run of looking/acting like normal young adults for about an hour. I made a deceivingly sophisticated dinner for us both (sometimes we eat cheese, crackers, and ice cream, so really anything looks sophisticated). We then cracked and watched a few episodes of Weeds (which also makes our lives look almost normal in comparison) instead of doing the lesson planning we should have done.
In between episodes, we showed yet another sign of weakness and decided we deserved large bowls of ice cream.
Now, before I go on, please read this facebook message I sent to Emily back in July (while she was in Wisconsin).
I thought the "toad-days" were long gone. Until yesterday when a slightly smaller version of said toad was found taking refuge in a crack near our front door. Now, I didn't think this crack would allow for a toad to actually squeeze into our house. I'm still not convinced that it is.
Back to the kitchen: As soon as I walk in, I notice a black blob hopping across the floor. I have no qualms about catching toads back home, but something about slimy-Indian-you-probably-are-the-cause-of-brainworm-monsoon toads makes me a little squeamish. My reaction: keel over in a fit of laughter while simultaneously shrieking at Emily to catch it. The toad's reaction: quickly hop into the darkest, deepest corner it can find - our bottom cupboard - which is filled with countless containers for it to hide in. I'll let the photos tell the rest of the story.
|Emily begins the capture attempt.|
Remember, she has giardia. (Though that's really
only a convenient excuse for wearing a blanket.)
|After a fun "guess which container I'm in" |
game, we isolate the deceivingly small
toad in the corner. Sucker.
|Five minutes of trying to catch the cornered |
toad later, I step in. Notice the "prodding" tool
- we're going to have to wash that spoon.
|Success! His sinister spirit is captured.|
|The proud captor!|
|There he is! (And, our neighbors come to witness the event.)|
|Showing off my loot just before the release.|
Our amphibian fiend has been freed. I'm trying not to think about the original toad I encountered back in July and how unusually fat it was. If it had toad babies in our house, well I guess I'll have an excuse to write a sequel to this episode.