After an entire summer of avoiding going outside because of searing heat and glaring windshields, I felt reborn. I actually cleaned out my fridge and enjoyed it. I rinsed out the science project containers with a smile on my face and loaded the dishwasher while I did a little happy dance on my freshly swept kitchen floor. I was freaking June Cleaver. I whisked through the house; a virtual tornado of happy and contented productivity. Ah, the wonders of fall in Texas.
As I waltzed through my yet to be swept breakfast nook, I glanced under the table to see what had my cats so fascinated only to discover... a snake. Yes, you heard me correctly. A snake. A creepy little slithering unnatural mutant of nature. Have you ever wondered how they move with no feet or legs? It's just not right.
Now, I consider myself to be a pretty down-to-earth and reasonable woman. I'm not a girlie girl who screams at mice and spiders and bats. In fact, I think bats are pretty cute and I once had an earthworm for a pet when I was a kid. Snakes are my downfall. I embarrass myself with how freaked out I am about snakes. They send my blood pressure into the stratosphere and I suddenly become a quivering mass of squealing girlishness.
My husband thought it was hilarious that I emailed him that a snake was waiting under a hastily (and quite expertly, I might add) tossed Tupperware container for him to come home and liberate. Preferably in someone else's yard. He never got the chance. The darn cats would not leave that Tupperware alone. They batted at it and shoved it and were doing their feline darnedest to push over that container. Apparently they were just as uncomfortable as I was with leaving a live snake in our house. Then again, maybe they just wanted to torture it for hours until it finally died because cats think that kind of thing is fun. You never know.
Finally I put Kalen on the bed in my room, made Conner stand back and I released the freak of nature from its dishwasher-safe plastic prison. I was ready for anything. I had the dustpan held in front of my because I was just sure that undoubtedly poisonous snake would slither right for me and bite my toe. I imagined flashing red lights and an ambulance ride in my near future. (You see how illogical snakes make me?) The Tupperware flipped back. The snake froze. I banged the dust pan by the snake and herded it out the open door where it disappeared in the grass of my back yard. Anticlimactic, I know. No one was more disappointed than the cats, trust me.
Needless to say, all my doors and windows are now closed. Air conditioning is a good thing. I am no longer June Cleaver because I've gotten nothing accomplished since "The Snake Incident." Although, to be honest, June Cleaver probably would of freaked a little, too, so I don't feel so bad.
