Bad Start

This morning we found a dying gecko on our kitchen floor. It lay on a tile, only quivering one of its legs when we touched it, otherwise immobile. There was no obvious wound that it had suffered, although its head was much darker than its body, as if it had massive bruising.

Geckos bring us so much happiness in our flat; they're forever scurrying across the walls or skulking outside in light fittings or any other convenient hiding place. The death of an animal is never a happy event, and to have a gecko that's usually a slightly nervous, yet cute denizen of the lizard kingdom peg out on us is a thoroughly depressing way to start the day.

I was already struggling; because of this morning's blood test I had to skip breakfast. Because of last night's show, I was up late, which meant I failed to get up and go for a run this morning, and that made me even more sluggish. Then when I got to the medical centre I had to wait half an hour for it to open, and another half hour to see the doctor, all of which was time that I'd rather have spent with my head stuck to my pillow.

Of course, it only got worse from there on, as the doctor explained about how I had such high cholesterol that I could drop dead, without any warning, if one of the plaques in my arteries ruptured. It's never pleasant to be reminded of your own mortality. Perhaps it's preferable to keel over without warning, rather than go the other route of enduring angina, stents and then still dying, slowly and painfully, but then neither of them are pleasant.

Particularly not at nine in the morning when you haven't eaten for thirteen hours, and you've found a dead lizard in your kitchen.

It's not the first gecko fatality we've witnessed recently; just a few days ago, we were walking down the hallway from our flat to the lifts, when we saw a gecko scurrying on the wall next to us, and then lose its fabulous stickiness, and apparently fall 21 stories to its doom. I hope we haven't found ourselves in the middle of a reptilian death cult. That wouldn't be a good omen.

Anyway, I now have lost two more vials of blood, plus some urine (at least for that sample I don't get jabbed with a needle) and taken a hepatitis B shot just for the good of my liver, and we wait for tomorrow and a life without cheese. No wonder that on a beautiful sunny day I'm feeling so maudlin.