Okay you guys.  I’m supposed to be doing homework right now, but I had to share an interesting story first…

A couple weeks ago, Chris and I were watching Brothers and Sisters when we heard what I thought to be a duck in our kitchen. I know that sounds silly, but there just isn’t any other way of saying it than that.  I actually heard a duck in my kitchen. So Chris looks at me, and I look at him, and he looks at me…and then he proceeds to announce that there is a frog in our house. At first I’m all NO WAY THAT’S NOT WHAT A FROG SOUNDS LIKE but then he looks at me, and I look at him, and he looks at me, and then I shit my pants.

Before continuing, let me briefly preface the rest of my story by saying that I am NOT okay with any small living being that is either furry or caged. This includes bugs, infants, and yes…frogs. (Proven here.) So you can understand how it was imperative that we find the little bastard and relocate him somewhere other than my kitchen. All I could think of was reaching for my morning coffee to find Prince Charming floating around inside. (And this, children, is the part of the story where we all heave a collective shudder.)

So Chris does a halfhearted hunt and turns to me and says “Oh well, we’ll just have to wait for him to make another sound.” Like, seriously. I wish that I were joking, but my husband actually looks me in the eye and tells me that an amphibian has invaded my home and that I was just supposed to go back to watching television like nothing was wrong. Eventually, through gentle persuasion (to be read “jumping up and down and holding my breath until my face turned blue”) Chris agreed to do a more thorough search.

Internet, let me assure you that there is no such thing as a more thorough search than the hunt for an unwelcome frog in one’s kitchen. We scoured the cabinets, pulled out appliances, gave Riley a rectal exam…the whole nine yards. There was no. fucking. frog. to. be. found. I was very upset. Days and then weeks go by and I’m all DON’T WORRY ABOUT THE LAUNDRY OR THE LITTERBOX, HONEY, JUST DO ME A FAVOR AND FIND THAT FROG SO I CAN SLEEP AGAIN. PLEASE.

So we’re about to sit down to dinner this afternoon when my sister calls…which is strange, because I don’t usually talk to my family on the phone.  In fact, my phone never rings, because almost everybody knows that I don’t get great reception in the house and I prefer text messages/email. It was at that very moment when I realized that two weeks prior I had changed my ringtone to “Duck”.