Just before we left last week, these things began falling from the sky.
Lots of them. All at once. Really hard.
This particular one is about the size of a racquetball. He had many friends.
And those little gems, in conjunction with the unending rain, did this to the ceiling in our bedroom….
Which in turn, did damage to our wood floors and took out one of my favorite rugs.
That’s pretty “keepin’ it real” in and of itself, but I am positive that many others, even on our street, are dealing with similar, and even much greater, damage.
BUT… if I was a bettin’ gal, I would say we are probably all alone in our discovery of this…. (Deep breath.)
No, you are not looking at a fossil from a science museum. No. That is Matt’s hand holding a squished lizard mummy we found when we pulled up the ruined rug from beneath our bed.
That means, at some point, that thing was alive. Inside my house. Breathing and moving. Under my bed. While we slept.
If I still have blog readers after this, it will be an undeniable miracle of Heaven.