Thursday, July 7, 2011

In Which I Do Not Post the Photo of the Dead Snake

Yesterday was the weirdest day. I mean. Totally strange.

So I woke up, and the husband went to work, and I made the pancakes, and I blogged, and everything seemed normal. And then I got up and went to the bathroom. And there was a snake. There was a snake on the floor, underneath the sink cabinet. A snake.


I called the husband, and when he picked up I just kept saying, "There is a snake in the bathroom. There is a snake in the bathroom. There is a snake - IN THE BATHROOM." He came home right away, and of course by the time he opened the bathroom door the snake wasn't there. I wondered if there was a small part of him that was thinking "BITCH BE TRIPPIN'", but if he was thinking it, he was at least kind enough to not say it. So then he went into the basement and a couple of minutes later, he walked over to me all calm and was like, "Hey. Come here." And he makes me look out onto the deck and there is this DEAD SNAKE on top of a shovel. I mean.

He found it in the basement underneath some shelving on the same side of the house as the bathroom. We were confused as to how the snake would have gotten into the bathroom in the first place, but later in the day I discovered a snake-sized hole in the wall at the bottom of the bathtub. I MEAN GODDAMN. He has since filled the hole, and I have since decided that I can't enter any room without first checking for snakes.

Or mice. Because we also caught a mouse last night. It was inside of our dustbuster. Adrian released it into the wild. And we woke up this morning and there was a mouse on our mousetrap. WHAT IS THIS.

I'm hoping it was the same mouse, because honestly, I can't deal with thinking that there is a whole host of animals living in our house right now. We're putting another trap out tonight and hopefully that is it.

The best part of all of this, to be sure, was the endless chain of Facebook conversations about the snake. Because people generally have very strong feelings about snakes. Like, you either enjoy them and want them as badass pets, or you hate them with every fiber of your being and revel in tales of their demise. There was a lot of reveling on my wall yesterday. 

I need an adult beverage.


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