Wednesdays so far mean that I get to do a few chores around the house in the morning and come to the computer lab when I feel ready for it. I do not have classes scheduled for the day and eventually I will be riding in a van to other towns to observe third-year students teaching in local schools and assessing their performance, but for now I have not been invited on an excursion. That means that today was laundry day.
What we do is fill a large tub full of tepid water and add some detergent and grab a bar of soap to start hand-washing the clothes. There is a technique that I still have yet to master, but I do find that most of my clothes have arrived at some form of stasis in their dirtiness. Nothing is truly white (or khaki) anymore, but they are not getting much browner either. I must may be doing something right in my washing effort, or maybe I am just not rolling around in as much dirt as I was back in the Eastern region. It doesn't matter, I still spend about an hour washing the clothes from one week.
After that is concluded I take the still damp clothes (have you hand-wrung out a pair of slacks? It isn't easy that is for sure) outside to hang on two clotheslines that I tied to three separate trees. Everything is pretty natural here, so the air and the tropical sun do the job nicely. A few plastic clothespins and I think my laundry job is about over. Now I should note that one of the lines is a highway of sorts for some black ants. They are not always using it, but today it looked as though there was a need for them to get to the other tree so I casually flung a few away as I adjusted the wet clothes.
With that done I walked up the steps that lead to a side door here in the house and I turned to close the door. Remember, I knew that flinging ants from the line might drop a couple on me so I was waiting for the tell-tale sign of six tiny legs navigating over my neck.
Then I felt something heavy land on my head.
This was not the ant that I had pictured a second before. My first thought was a spider for some reason. There are quite a few of them and maybe one flew off the door as I swung it closed. I think I half-blurted a "Jezzus" as I swatted my right hand over the top of my head.
Plop went down a little pale yellow gecko onto the floor. Maybe two or three inches long, and off it shimmied towards the bathroom. I have no clue where he came from, maybe the door, maybe the ceiling, but it gave me quite a fast reaction. I don't mind spiders, I think skinks are cool, and even an odd ant doesn't bother me in the house, but not on me.
The gecko went about his or her business, I walked away and the clothes moved gently in the sunny breeze. All was fine in Hohoe.