Green Acres

“Green Acres is the place to be.
Farm living is the life for me.
Land spreading out far and wide,
Keep Manhattan, just give me the countryside”

Ah! The theme song to Green Acres.

This was to be the soundtrack to my summer in France as I embraced Nature.

But I’m singing a new tune now.

Because yesterday three different green crawly creatures escaped Nature to creep inside my house and terrorize me.

The first was a lizard.

He was fluorescent green and as long as my arm. Swear to God, I’ve never seen anything like it.

I was on a business call, Skype of all things, when the cat chased this huge monster into the house.

Imagine the surprise of my colleague when one minute I’m talking about strategic online roles and the next I’m screaming bloody murder and standing on my chair!

It slid under the sofa where the cat kept watch. I refused to sit down for the rest of the call and we had to finish the meeting as I stood on a chair.

Not terribly professional, I’m afraid.

I phoned a knowledgeable friend who warned that these particular lizards are very dangerous; they’ll hang on to the tail of a cat or dog and never, ever let go.

Terrific.

Later, as I prepared for bed something flew in the window and made a beeline for my hair. It too was bright green. And it too was greeted with shrill screams as I battered my own head about trying to get that thing out of my curls.

It took hours to get to sleep after that.

And when I made my way to the loo in the middle of the night, I was greeted with some sort of large green praying-mantis type monster the size of my fist.

The size of my fist!

It scared the bejesus out of me. And I’m sorry to say that it’s dead now. But c’mon, enough is enough.

I woke up exhausted, as you can well imagine.

As I poured myself a cup of coffee, I turned to find the aforementioned lizard again. He sat under my desk and challenged me with a sinister look.

Seriously? Will this madness never end?

That’s it. No more screaming. No more standing on chairs. This is war against all things green and slimy. This is war against Nature!

I grabbed a broom. He stood on his hind legs and hissed at me menacingly.

“Holy Mother of God!” I thought to myself.

I’d imagined the country as a place for fresh air and clean living. I wasn’t prepared for hand to hand combat with a vindictive lizard.

But I took a deep breath, gripped my broom with both hands and went at him.

Round and round the room we wrestled. Round and round the room with him spitting while making the most god-awful noise, and me doing the same.

Finally, finally I got him outside.

I slammed all the doors and windows shut. Then I locked them. Fresh air be damned.

I collapsed into the couch and wept as I sang softly to myself:

“Darling, I love you
But give me Park Avenue!”