Jessica vs. Bob the Frog

Last night, I found a little visitor in my room. Since there was no power and out of the corner of my eye, I see something bouncing across the floor, I may or may not have panicked a little. After I flashed a light on it, I saw that it was a small yellowish-green tree frog. I followed it around my room for a while, just staring at it, watching it breathe, and talking to it. I named him Bob. He seemed harmless enough, but I didn’t really want a sleeping companion or it to jump onto my mosquito net in the middle of the night. So I searched for a way to get it out of my room. Now if I was not so much of a chicken, I probably would have taken my dad’s suggestion: covered my hand with a plastic bag and grabbed it. But as a child, I was never the adventurous one to touch slimy, mushy, cool-looking amphibians, insects, and worms. It hasn’t changed much now that I’m older (I have to interact with them, I’d rather do it at a zoo or even as a piece of food to eat.). Bob seemed to know I was after him and jumped into spaces in the room that were impossible for me to reach. After looking around my room to see what the best tool to shoo a frog from my room, I decided upon the spatula I bought the other day. With a spatula in hand, some screaming/shrieking on my part, and much panic on Bob’s part, I started herding Bob toward the door. He landed on the toilet paper, the boxes of gifts I brought to take to people, squeezed between the wall and my bed, climbed onto part of my bed, was on the wall, under the bed, and even in my purse at one point. Finally I slowly prodded him out the door. Bye Bob!

Thus ended my entertainment for the night without electricity