Didn’t I tell you?
Well, it should never have happened.
It’s 7:00 in the morning. Auguste says goodbye and steps onto the elevator. Gussie and I wave goodbye to him from the window. Gussie sits back down to finish her breakfast and from the other side of the counter, I begin to wash the breakfast dishes.
That is when it happened.
While cleaning up the kitchen, I suddenly step on something wet-ish. I think to myself “What has Gussie dropped on the floor? What is so hard about tossing garbage in the garbage can?”
I look down to pick-up and throw away what it is I have stepped on, only to discover that what I have stepped on is:
Do you hear me!!!!?
(I realize that the frog must have been hiding in the leaves of one of the fig trees that I had delivered yesterday)
I am clear that for Gussie to find out what is happening would mean the end of my peace for the next 20 years, because she would be forever glued to my side in frog-fear.
I muster up all of the courage that I have — and I mean it takes all of the courage that I have, I reach down and with a wad of paper towels, I scoop up the stepped on frog. I run down the hall to the bathroom and flush it down the toilet — but not before I see all of its frog guts spinning out of sight.
I still have not fully recovered.
I mean, I live in a New York City apartment!
This was completely out of order.