When I went home last night, I saw a toad again at the foot of the stairs on the way to my apartment. I realized now that it’s the rainy season that brings them. And just because I’m in no mood to create anything in the meantime, I’m rehashing an old post from my other blog:
I came home late from work for the third time this week. What greeted me at the foot of the stairs on the way to my apartment was a familiar sight. Not that it was a welcome sight, but it was there the last two times I came home late. I stopped in my tracks, and for a moment was undecided if I should go on or go back.
Should I be worrried?
No. It was just a frog.
Should I be worried that seeing it again is the highlight of my week?
Yes, I should be.
As I shoo it away and went by my business, I remembered all those unfortunate frogs that fell victim to our Biology class back in college. Proof that I did mankind a favor by not taking up medicine: During a practical examination, we had to pith a frog (inserting a needle in the frog’s vertebrae to destroy the spinal cord, thus paralyzing the animal) before dissection, to identify the muscle parts. I always had a lab partner to do the deed in the previous meetings so I was lost when left to my own devices. No matter how hard I try, I couldn’t find that point on the back of the frog’s head where I should start to go in. What happened was I got too tense because of the time restriction and my own inadequacy that while my classmates were already starting to remove the skin of their frogs, mine was still wriggling in my hand, in my utter desperation and helplessness. We were not allowed to wear gloves, that sadistic teacher!
I never really liked animals close up (on TV some are cute), much less the real Kermit! But imagine that, every Biology class, we had to go to the prep room to each get one sample from this huge container filled with jumping toads! Que horror!
Now, just not to raise the eyebrows of some science geeks out there, I’m actually talking about toads. I just happen to like writing frogs more. Whatever! They’re not really the same.
So let’s go back to my frog, errr, toad. The next time I see it, I’m telling my landlady!
I was asking for a fairy tale. I won’t take this for an answer!
what if it’s your prince?
whew! are we back to frogs again? once again, i’m just glad the course i took didn’t have anything with slicing and dicing ‘em frogs weheheh!
hahaha! when i was little i wondered if i kissed them, would they turn into a handsome prince? then i stared into those watery, beady eyes and thought … no thanks!