Confused chameleon contemplates change

Aside from the ten thousand five hundred eighty six "small detail items" on my Follow-Up To-Do List, all of the big stuff on the Priority To Do List has been completed and we put the house on the market last Thursday.  (More on that later in the week if I find time to post).

One of the last of the big stuff items on the now extinct Priority To Do List, which I burned in an almost religious ceremony of gratitude, was pressure washing and re-staining the porch.  Just before spreading down the plastic to protect painted areas from stain, I  spotted the fellow below. To try and prove to myself that the photojournalist in me had not been totally beaten down into oblivion and to document his confusion, I snapped a picture of him, peeking from the plastic which had become his last hiding place.

He (or she) is clearly contemplating life's great questions:

• Where have all the plants gone that used to be here on the porch?
• How can I escape off the porch since the hole in the screen has been patched?
• Where is food?
• Am I about to die?
• It's already November -- have I missed mating season entirely?
• Why is God pointing that damned Nikon at me again?
• Is it safe to quench my thirst by drinking Valspar Dark Redwood Weatherproofing Stain?
• Why is God now moaning and grabbing the small of his back everytime he stands up?
• If God sells the house, will the new owners of the house also have cats?
• If I do manage to get off the porch, is the dreaded black snake still living in the crawl space?
• How are the other chameleons coping, or am I the last of my species left on Earth?
• If I'm a chameleon, why can't I turn white?

I wish I had time to discuss these great questions with the chameleon but my biggest concern this morning is to ransack the medicine drawer in the bathroom to see if there is any more Tylenol left.