It's not easy, being green

I came home from an incredible evening with friends--mojitos, indian food, fabulous conversations about telling the difference between Church of Christ and Church of Jesus--to find a visitor on my doorstep.

My handsome amphibian. Can I keep him, mom?

Let me mention that I live in a building that faces a parking lot directly behind a town square. There's not a tree or stretch of grass for about 30-40 yards in any direction. Where did this little creature come from? (Actually not so little--he was as long as my thumb. And I've got long hands!) And why is he adhered to my power meter? Is he some sort of Super Frog sucking the energy from unwitting Georgians?

I greeted him as I unlocked door, apologized for not inviting him in, and assured myself that Prince Charming would likely not be stuck to my door at eye level. But you have those passing worries! Damn, did I have enough mojitoey-goodness that I've been transported into a Grimm's folktale? Am I down the rabbit hole? Again? I hate when that happens. Don't you jump on me, frog.

*Random memory for those of a certain age. My library had a recording of the Muppets special "The Frog Prince." The story was all about Robin helping a princess who could not speak (or something?). I was entranced by this recording as a child. If my little frog could talk, I think he'd sound like Robin.