Skinks, Anoles

Way too many lizards in the house. Skink crap is very distinctive, brown/gray with a white dot at one end, and you have to let it dry before you sweep it up. Saturday mornings, all summer, I sweep up lizard shit. Left the cover off the five-gallon bucket of water nearest the stove when I was doing dishes last night, went to get a dipper full this morning and there was a drowned mouse suspended in death. Had to throw away five gallons of really clean rain water. Hate that. A five gallon bucket with an inch of water and a shim boardwalk going to any shelf in the kitchen is a superior mouse-trap. This mouse is suspended almost exactly in the center of the bucket, like his specific gravity is .5, and fluffed out in the water, not really what you want to see when you're getting water for coffee. Cool morning, should have been good sleeping temps but I was up before seven considering breakfast options. D had given me a dozen fresh eggs from someone raising chickens (those South American chickens that lay colored eggs), pullet eggs, a dozen blue eggs, in fact, like robin eggs only larger but not much, I decide on an omelet, cheese and mushroom, first fry a patty of shredded potatoes in olive oil, then make a six small egg omelet, with Italian toast and really bitter orange marmalade. A good start on the day, a second cup of coffee, reading on the sofa, very quiet, when the fridge is off, just bugs and birds and the wind in the trees, I listen to a couple of the Bach Cello Suites and they really take my attention, no mediation, like me and God are on lounge chairs with cold Coronas and slices of lime, the zone, where everything makes sense but the mystery is intact. I won't tell your secrets if you won't tell mine. There's a skink on the window sill, perplexed at the change in temperature, I don't know where it sleeps, but I wish I could help it get there; I expect it to still be where it is in the morning, waiting for the sun. It's the problem with being cold-blooded. I'm almost always disappointed in everyone, where's that at? Expectations. I've learned to hold my tongue and mop. Assume nothing.