In a previous blog post, I wrote about how I've been bitten by more animals than you, most notably a poisonous snake. As a result, I am rather afraid of snakes to put it mildly.
So, I was not happy when we came home from the grocery store, and I saw this:
I figured our choices were:
1. Run away and never return, living the rest of our lives in Chris' car and earning a meager but satisfying living as traveling minstrels. Sorry, cats. You're on your own.
2. Find a way to get the mf-ing snake off this mf-ing door.
3. Adopt a pet mongoose and/or honey badger.
Reluctantly, I chose door #2, even though that road leads to certain death. I put on a hooded sweatshirt that was in Chris' car to cover as much exposed skin as I could. I was pretty sure that this snake was a blacksnake, one of the many non-poisonous models, but that still didn't make me in any hurry to get chomped by it.
My heart pounding with terror, I grabbed what I thought was my best weapon -- a snow broom that I use to clean snow from our cars, and knocked the snake off the door and swept (actually it was more of a slap shot) it down into the yard. The whole ordeal lasted about five seconds but trust me, they were a pretty terrifying five terrifying seconds and I felt much more macho than I actually am, afterward. It also took about 45 minutes and a beer before I finally calmed down.
Anyway, this puts a pretty big damper on my running career, since I'll never be stepping outside again, but I still might use this blog to post my increasingly insane ramblings as I adapt to the lifestyle of a hermit.
*Special thanks to Chris for the "snake oil" joke.
So, I was not happy when we came home from the grocery store, and I saw this:
("Hi. I'm in the neighborhood selling some medicinal oil that I think you'll be VERY interested in'."*)
I figured our choices were:
1. Run away and never return, living the rest of our lives in Chris' car and earning a meager but satisfying living as traveling minstrels. Sorry, cats. You're on your own.
2. Find a way to get the mf-ing snake off this mf-ing door.
3. Adopt a pet mongoose and/or honey badger.
Reluctantly, I chose door #2, even though that road leads to certain death. I put on a hooded sweatshirt that was in Chris' car to cover as much exposed skin as I could. I was pretty sure that this snake was a blacksnake, one of the many non-poisonous models, but that still didn't make me in any hurry to get chomped by it.
My heart pounding with terror, I grabbed what I thought was my best weapon -- a snow broom that I use to clean snow from our cars, and knocked the snake off the door and swept (actually it was more of a slap shot) it down into the yard. The whole ordeal lasted about five seconds but trust me, they were a pretty terrifying five terrifying seconds and I felt much more macho than I actually am, afterward. It also took about 45 minutes and a beer before I finally calmed down.
Anyway, this puts a pretty big damper on my running career, since I'll never be stepping outside again, but I still might use this blog to post my increasingly insane ramblings as I adapt to the lifestyle of a hermit.
*Special thanks to Chris for the "snake oil" joke.
