EEEEEK!

There's a skink in my house. And I don't know where it is. Even worse - I slept in here last night not even knowing it existed.

I need to move.

You see, this morning, while I was having a quiet, lazy Sunday morning, Husband says to Two, "Did you tell Mommy about the lizard?" No, he had not. Then Husband says "It was some skink-like thing; we found it in the corner by Lampchop's crate - last night while you and One were out."

Oh really?

"And of course you caught it and put it outside?", says I. "Oh no. We tried but it got away from us."

Missy, pray for me.

I am from the Far North. Where lizards don't live. Or snakes. Or much anything else creepy and slithery. I am genetically and environmentally unprepared to deal with a skink in the house. I am even more unprepared to deal with a Husband who is nonchalant about skinks in the house.

I don't know what to do. But I'm only taking my shoes off in bed from now on - I know that much.