Heed the Skink

The skinks gambol over our deck and squeeze into tight, dark spaces. They can disappear in a crack too small for a pencil.

We have been providing a cozy home for them under the back door threshold, which was about 1/2" above the deck boards.  Since our handyman
repaired it and sealed off their entry, the skinks have been confused.

They've decided the 1/2" space between the screen door and the doorsill is the way they should go.

Heading out to the deck I stopped when I saw a brown striped skink about 5" long on the runner inside the kitchen. I slowly walked toward him and he skedaddled back outside. 

The next day a younger skink, still black with a blue tail, was in the same place. He too turned tail and ran when he sensed me looming over him. 

Beguiling as they are, a vision of one diving for cover under the freezer gave me the willies. So we're trying to remember to close the back door. 

I can relate to their dilemma. 

 One of my familiar "routes" is to volunteer before I think twice. I find myself obligated to good things I'm really too lazy or selfish to do. 

 In the past that's led to leading student clubs that wore me out, preparing meals for sick folks and muttering while doing so, getting into a power struggle with a four year old in the church nursery, and helping to derail an auction because I didn't know what I was doing.

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Heed the skinks. They followed the old path and it led to an undesirable destination. 

If I mindlessly follow my old routines, I may find myself somewhere I don't want to be.