The Return of the Gecko

Trigger warning (because I feel like this post deserves one): mentions of—and a photo of—a gecko.

If there’s anything I hate more than a gecko…

It’s definitely the gecko that disappeared inside my room and haunted (and traumatized, might I add) me with its sudden disappearance.

Yes, I’m talking about that freaking useless gecko—the one I mentioned earlier this month.

The other day, on one perfectly ordinary morning while I was getting ready for work, I noticed something flickering on the left side of my door frame.

A gecko.

A tiny house gecko—not quite black, but definitely tiny.

I wasn't sure if it was the same one as before, but I still froze. My jaw dropped. My brain completely stopped working. (I don’t mean to exaggerate, but I do think it’s important for you to understand just how deeply I despise the entire gecko family.)

To put it simply, I couldn’t think straight.

Should I just let it be? Or should I scare it away with a broom while opening my door as wide as possible? But there would still be a 50% chance that instead of going outside, it would crawl even deeper into my room. Oh, the dilemma!

Because it was already 7:15 (I needed to catch the bus to be at work by eight), I decided to let it be. I sincerely hoped it would choose to take a breather by crawling through the gap under my door.

“Or at least don’t move,” I silently pleaded. “It’s better if I can see you.”

I wasn’t late for work, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that naughty little gecko all day.

What should I do? Should I use a broom? Or maybe buy a cardboard box and somehow lure it inside before trapping it there? Would it work? Would I be brave enough to fight it armed with nothing but determination?

In the end, I did what any reasonable person would do. I ordered anti-lizard spray with same-day delivery. (Yes. That was HOW MUCH I wanted to get rid of it.)

But guess what? It pulled a Cinderella’s fairy godmother on me.

Poof. Gone with the wind. Blah blah blah.

Freaking gecko and its questionable whereabouts. How I hated you with my whole heart.

To calm myself down, I convinced myself that maybe it had already left. Maybe it had seen daylight through the gap under my door and decided the outside world was a much better place. Maybe it suddenly felt adventurous and wandered into one of my neighbors’ rooms.

And so I watched my C-drama... (Sullenly at first, because I was still deeply uncomfortable with the thought of a missing gecko. Happily by the end, because the C-drama was so good it sent me straight to cloud nine. I’ll definitely talk about it in another post. I promise.)

Fast forward to the next morning, right when I was about to step out of my room, I spotted a gecko outside my door, casually doing the walk of shame toward the room across mine.

I froze. “Is that the same gecko?!”

I wasn’t sure what to do! Should I spray the gap under my door to stop it from coming back? But if it wasn’t the same gecko… would spraying it mean I would accidentally trap the OG gecko inside my room forever (and just let it rot)?

In the end, I decided to take the chance.

I sprayed the gap under my door with an alarming amount of determination… and liquid.

The floor was wet. But I was much more relieved.

And to this day, I’m happy to report that there hasn’t been another gecko sighting in my room.

I just hope the gecko doing the walk of shame was the very same one I had seen in my room… and also the same one I had seen weeks before.

So yes… that’s the story of how a gecko managed to occupy my thoughts for nearly two days straight.

If there's a lesson here, it's this: sometimes you just have to take the chance. Worst case, you're still sharing a room with a gecko. Best case, it moves into your neighbor's place.

If you like this post, you might also enjoy How I Lost a Battle Against a Chinese Drama and A Chaotic Update: This Week Included Pho, Burnout, and Lamps .