Sitting in front of the television watching the soccer game couldn’t have been a more relaxing way to spend a Wednesday evening. During the commercial break, I was trying to teach my sister and dad how to pronounce some of the American players’ names. My sister’s rather good attempts turned to shrieks as she bolted off of the couch and started hopping in circles. My dad was busting a gut, but I was just dumbfounded. She continued to shriek in indiscernible, high pitched Spanish and then fled to the bathroom. With me looking obviously confused, my dad calmed down enough to explain to me, still chortling, what had happened. Maria, to her audible horror, had been pooped on by the gecko that lives on the ceiling.
Geckos, here, are welcome house guests. They eat spiders and other crawlies that would otherwise overrun the house. You wouldn’t know that they were there except for their occasional peeping in the evenings or the incredibly rare poop bomb. I have made it my mission to capture one. They skitter along the walls within reach sometimes, but are very agile. Also, I don’t want to lunge at them, miss, and look like an imbecile in front of my host family.
Eventually I will succeed. Just you wait, gecko, just you wait…