Today, I was sitting in the yard with Sophie. Carl came out to join us and we sat and played on a blanket in the yard. I had to go inside to tutor so we picked up the blanket and headed inside. Next thing I know, there is a snake on the patio between Carl and I. I jump in the house and start thinking, "What can I throw at it?"
I'd like you to remember my rhapsody when there were deer and groundhogs and blue jays in my backyard. Why didn't I think there might be snakes too? Carl said, "I hope you enjoyed your time in the grass Soph because that's the last time that mom will be taking you out here." The snake was literally a teeny tiny garter snake, but now that I know it lives in our bushes, I'm literally thinking of removing the bushes. Yes, I know this is irrational. Especially as a former naturalist at the Fort Belvoir nature center, but I can't help it. I am terrified of snakes. Any kind of snake. Terrified.
Stupid snake. It ruined everything. And whatever happened to "It's more afraid of you than you are of it?" It certainly took its sweet time studying me before slithering back into the bushes.
Keep moving, snake, less you meet an untimely and senseless end . . .
