I seem to be having trouble communicating properly these days. I think I'm saying what I mean, but as I so often need to explain to the man, I don't think we are speaking the same English. Several times lately, I have been repeating myself, and no one seems to hear me. Case in point, today, I had a jury summons in the mail. The date they want me to report is three days before I am leaving for Colorado for the annual football trip, and to check on the progress on the condos. I don't want to get out of the jury duty. I'm actually kind of interested in doing it. I've wondered why I haven't received a summons in all these years that I've been moving around the country. Maybe I was called up after I moved. I asked a general question on whether I would be able to move the date earlier, as I will be very busy later. I had a long list of suggestions on how to get out of jury duty entirely, some serious, some very funny. I repeated myself several times, that I don't want to get out of it. That didn't stop the tide of ideas. I must not be the communicator I think I am.
For all that humans didn't seem to be catching on to the signals I was sending out, apparently was my day to charm all the reptiles. I don't usually walk close to the display of reptiles up for sale at the pet supply megastore, so I do not know whether they tend to be as enthusiastic as, say, a cage full of puppies. Today, the sign caught my eye, that they were selling skinks for 30 bucks. I was surprised by that. That means my back yard must have a fortune in potential pets, because the little guy in the cage was the same run of the mill blue striped skink that lives in the Park. The tag claimed that they live for something remarkable, like 20 years. Are you kidding me? The life expectancy of a skink at Smith Park is 5 minutes past the moment Jackie spots it. The skink's cage was throwing off too big of a glare for me to get a good photo, so I started looking at the other reptiles who were dancing for my attention. There were several other lizards of varying sizes, including a little tan guy who dropped from the ceiling of his cage, and then ran back and forth, looking up at me, wanting my attention (for better or for worse). There was a googly-eyed chameleon who was difficult to pass up, but he would have been a cat's breakfast for sure. And there was a little ball python who was more energetic than any snake I've ever seen. I started wondering whether I was speaking Parseltongue and not realizing it. Do reptiles see colors? Was I dressed in a particularly attractive way? The looks I was getting from some of them, particularly the chameleon, made me feel like they were cheering me as the great savior of lizards, for all of my early efforts to protect them from Jack the Lizard Killer.
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