Last weekend I was feeling too lazy to walk up the flight of stairs to my bedroom (this happens quite regularly) so I ducked out to the clothesline to grab a fresh pair of knickers. I collected them, brought them inside, started to put them on and... out jumped a real-live frog. Ta da!
Now, I take great pride in telling people that I'm 'from the country'. It's my little differentiator amongst my city-posh friends and city-suited colleagues. I like to think it gives me a wholesome, scrubbed-faced demeanor when I'm going about my ordinary grey city life. A touch of pink about the cheeks. Me? Oh, I'm a country girl.
The truth is that while I did indeed grow up in a large country town, we lived on the decidedly un-rural main street. There was a horse over the back fence once upon a time and we found a dead chicken in our yard one year, but that was about it for us and country living. Gran and Pops still live in the same house I grew up in and the Tsunamis even refer to our visits as 'going to see Gran and Pops in the city'. So, no, not really a country girl at all.
So the frog in the pants thing was more of a problem than you might think.
It just did the one jump. More of a startled leap, really, as if he was saying 'sure, take me off the clothesline, drag me inside the house, but I am not going anywhere near that bottom'.
After the jump, he sat on the floor, looking contentedly around. A little croak saying: New digs; roomier. I've got a roof over my head, there's an ensuite. I kinda like it.
I wasn't so sure. It's one thing to have a house in the bush (in the city), quite another to share it with bonefide country-type wildlife. LOML was called for and the frog was smartly despatched out back. What on earth was he doing in a backyard that didn't have a pond? The creek is easily about 100 metres from the house, down a cliff, around a little bend, leave a trail of breadcrumbs. Oh gosh... Did somebody's prince take a wrong turn?
I'm so glad he made the detour. Unlike, say, the time a massive huntsman got caught in my hair (shudder) or the time a snake slithered its way across my verandah (eek), a frog is really quite manageable for a 'country girl' like me. I'm just glad he leaped to safety before the knickers went on!
Did you grow up the the country or the city? Do you remain true to your roots?
And have you ever had a frog in your knickers?
[Image by Darkrose42]