I can't take much in the way of varmints. It was part of Husband's vows at our wedding "to love, honor, and remove all outside creatures to the outdoors or the trashcan, the latter of which can only occur if said creature is dead." Translation: I do NOT kill bugs or anything else. Ever.
Unless of course Husband is at work and unavailable to live up to his vow, like today. I can barely even type it since I get the willies every time I think about it. We...had...a...ss...uhhhh...sss....snake. In our garage. I say "we" but really it was me and the boys, and they were still strapped in their carseats when I noticed the intruder. Otherwise, the s. (I can't seem to type it again) would probably be running for its life from a stick.
Let me just say, I would have taken a pic of the s. but I was too horrified. All I could think about was the possibility of the s. chasing me as I leapt over it to the door to get a broom. Then I realized, I'm NOT using the same broom as I use to sweep our kitchen floor, so I had to leap over it again to get to the garage broom. Luckily we have about five garage brooms (somehow they seem to be multiplying) so I grabbed the biggest one I could find. Straw bristles, curved on the end from so much use...oh, yeah, this baby would work.
So I went back to the s. amid "what you doing, Mommy"s from the car and prepared to sweep it out of the garage. The s. curled up immediately (ewwwwww!!) and with one amazing swoop I launched him to the end of the driveway like a hockey puck on an icerink. Then another swoop into the street, then across the street to the office building's parking lot, then for good measure to the grassy area next to it.
Ahhhh, my work was done and now I'm happy to report I have not seen the s. again. I couldn't, however, bring myself to let the broom back into the garage so it is currently propped up outside. Where it will remain forever.
So after my heroics I walked back up to the car and Son 1 was all questions:
"What did you do Mommy?"
"I just showed a snake his new home."
"Because I don't like snakes."
"Oh. I like snakes."
You'll learn, my boy, you'll learn.
P.S. The size of the snake, I'm sure you want to know, wasn't much bigger than a large earthworm. But it was ferocious.
I am quite certain is was wicked and ferocious. I am also certain you handled that much better than I would have.
Oh, you had me laughing!! But I would have been the exact same way. Actually, no, I probably would have stayed in my car and called my hubby at work to come take it out of the garage, hahaha. I can't even handle a spider, so a "s." would send me over the edge!
I've decided to comment on all your old posts. Here I'd like to say that you and my mother have something in common, a fact which I'm sure just curls your hair.
Mom cannot say the "s" word. When we lived in rural Southwest Oklahoma, she was babysitting one day. When I got home, I found her and my 3-year-old sitting in the driveway in her car with the car running and the air conditioner on. When I pulled up, she rolled down the window and said, "There's a (at this point she just makes a squiggle in the air with her finger) on the back porch."
It took several seconds for me to figure it out, and I had to arrange for the removal of a (cross my heart this is no exageration) 9-foot boa constrictor from the space between our back door and screen door. My mom was so glad when we moved from that house.
And now, I shall end the Comment So Long It Should Have Been A Post On My Own Blog.
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