You might think I’m talking about a PC.
Forget it, I’m a Mac woman. Indiana Jones is on my mind and not because Harrison Ford is handsome. It’s because of something the dashing star as his iconic character and I share.
We upgraded from the original 1980s house windows a few years ago. This was a good idea since you couldn’t sit anywhere near the windows in the summer without the heat melting you or beside them in the winter without your warm breathing misting them up. The new windows are energy efficient and apparently provide good soundproofing going both directions. When I’m in my office tapping away on the keyboard, not a lot from outside distracts me unless I’ve happened to raise the sash.
Once upon a time on a quiet evening I was home alone. I remember it was Tuesday because I was watching NCIS, which hasn’t changed its airing night in decades. Our downstairs family room is cozy—when only the TV and a small wrought iron lamp beside it are in use.
Alas, this evening found the room ablaze with illumination. Both overheads, the ones beside the TV, my overstuffed chair, and in the corner—all lamps are aglow. Shadows are negated by the arcs of light thrown everywhere around the long room.
What my chair should look like
Beside me on the end table are:
- two cans of hairspray (where did I even find it?)
- a croquet mallet (love the game, can’t play it in our sloped yard)
- several folded up paper towels (okay, the entire roll)
- and even a 5 lb disc for a barbell (not sure what I plan on doing with it)
In my own little way, I’m loaded for bear.
I’m wishing Rooster Cogburn was here giving me the lasso he surrounded Katharine Hepburn with to keep slithering critters away. Ah to have John Wayne’s gentle chivalry with me at this moment!
Picture this:
I’m at the end of a forty-five minute trek on the elliptical, feeling pretty good about going beyond my normal half-hour. I’m enjoying the show, laundry is churning away in the room next to me. Life, as I’ve known it up until that moment, is good.
Then I notice a long, thick, dark thread on the carpeted floor and think: hmmm, where did that come from?
Then the thread moved.
I started screaming at the top of my lungs.
With the speed of Indy’s first attack boulder, multiple thoughts rolled through my head:
First: turn a bucket upside down on it.
Second: buckets have spouts, that won’t work.
Third: Shout should be toxic enough to stop it in its slither.
Fourth: Shout will stain the carpet. Will Shout stain the carpet?
Fifth: OH DEAR HEAVENS, I HAVE TO TOUCH IT!
Like the eternally brave and daring Indiana Jones, I hate snakes.
I don’t dislike them. I don’t think they’re simply squirmy reptiles to be avoided at the zoo. I hate them. I mean, I hate them. I have hated them all my life even when Dad would say, “Don’t worry, Rosemary, it’s just a black snake.” When we were kids, I’d catch lightening bugs, crawfish, crickets, and grasshoppers. When it came to any creature of any magnitude without legs, the brother and two boy cousins left me out of the game.
Oh yeah, Indy and I have it going on. We feel exactly the same way about the wretched wrigglers.
Even in the yard…
Mowing one summer, I was happily enjoying the Zen of my chore when from under the mower a snake at least sixteen inches long shot out and zoomed across the grass. I, who prefer to shoo flies outside than to kill them, was ticked that I couldn’t run over him again, but he disappeared under the neighbor’s bushes.
Snake in the yard where it belongs
Back in the house…
This serpent who nervily invaded the family room was at least eight inches in length, big around as my little finger. Skinny as can be, sure, but that didn’t make me feel any less threatened.
Screaming the entire time, I wadded together paper towels, scooped him up and ran into the powder room to flush him. He was pretty fierce about trying to crawl up the sides of the bowl. It took three flushes to get him down. Then I ran up and down the stairs repeatedly, dousing three toilets with Lysol Cleaner and flushing them about nine times each.
My screaming lasted at least five full minutes.
Jamie Lee Curtis would have hired me to substitute for her back in her Halloween days.
When the screaming stopped, the crying started.
Can I tell you…
I hate when I go girly. As my encouraging brother kindly said, “You’re one of the most self-sufficient people I know.”
Do you think I’ve gone soft since I got married? Do you think being able to dramatically state: “Eek, a spider/centipede/squiggly bug,” and have husband instantly save me has made me a wimp?
Oh no. That can’t have happened. I love my independence. And Alex travels. A lot. Like right now when he’s in a safe hotel room on an upper floor that can’t possibly get invaded by a snake.
I, on the other shaking hand, am here, at ground level. I have to be able to take care of myself. I can handle the spiders/millipedes/squiggly bugs. I don’t like them, but give them a quick squirt of that hairspray (why else would I have it on hand?) and they’re fairly easy to get rid of.
Snakes?
Outside I can cope. Had the yard snake pursued me, I would have quit mowing and come inside.
Inside.
Blast it, our home is no longer safe.
Which leads me right back to the title of this blog. My five full minutes of Jamie-Lee screaming brought nary a neighbor to the door. At the very least, I expected the four legged critters that occupy their homes would hear my dog-ear-piercing screams and leapt into a tizzy of dancing circles and frantic jumps, wanting to come to my rescue!
Drat, those new windows are utterly too good.
RoseMary, I am petrified of snakes. The way they sliver and shed their skin. I cannot bear them.
Do you know that I have scrolled very slowly through your post to avoid looking at the photograph of a snake- I just know there is one!
Years ago my friends and I went to a seaside town for a weekend. As we headed to a grass area a man stood there with the thickest snake I have ever seen. My friend stopped to look while my sister and I ran down the road!
I would have been running right alongside you, Phoenicia! Yikes to all snakes. A couple of my friends from high school CATCH them. Ew. They know better than to discuss that with me! (It was a tiny picture.)
Oh I would have been standing on the chair screaming! I hate snakes! You were so much braver than I could ever be, with PICKING IT UP (*GASP*)! When I am working in the yard, I have a three spider limit (big spiders, not the daddy long leg variety) and a one snake limit before I call it done for the day. I recall one summer day that Tracy and I were playing on the back porch and there was a black snake curled up with a black extension cord. Upon realizing there was a snake there, I quickly ran… Read more »
This made me laugh out loud because I can so see you two blissfully playing along and then: Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh! Did Tracy forgive you for the desertion?
Haha! This made me think about when I worked in the Everglades and stories would surface on the news of snake owners who had let their pet snakes free down there. They were getting quite gigantic, but luckily I never came across one.
Snicker, snicker, now THOSE ARE SNAKES. When I discuss moving to Florida with my husband, I always add the caveat: with a really big fence around the yard. Ha
This was too funny!!! I would have helped! I would have also liked to have been a fly on your wall to see this in person! When I cleaned out the garage to paint it a few summers back, I disturbed all the critters living down there, namely giant wolf spiders and large millipedes. EW. One night there was a millipede on my bedroom ceiling. I drug the bed out of the way(so it wouldn’t fall on the bed) and smashed it with a swiffer on a stick. I couldn’t have slept in there knowing it was still there. There… Read more »
Yes, Dawn–after hearing your snake-in-your-hair and you didn’t mind it story, I’m adding you to the list of friends I can call when/if this happens again.
EW big time to the millipede over the bed. I think I would have moved out!
Well, I LOVE snakes and would have come to your rescue, too. Those little snakes take care of so many other disgusting critters (spiders, bugs, etc) and are good to have around. OK, I hear you. I’ll shut up now. But call next time if you can put a bucket over him.
I am fascinated that anyone could love a snake that was loose in their home. Yuck. All I could think of was not catching him and then he’d sneak up the stairs and get into my bed. YUCK.
I also hate snakes. As kids, we frequently had run ins with snakes in the yard and the shed – there was lways lots of screaming. I’d still be screaming as an adult. I use upside tupperware containers or bowls to trap spiders; not sure if that would work for snakes. Someone at the waste water plant will not be happy with you when he/she cleans out the screens 🙂
Good to hear that we could have a scream along. I’m still shuddering.
I’m betting that’s an automated process and that they see a lot worse than a garter snake. BTW, is this where “garter belt” comes from? HA!
OMG, Rose! And you FLUSHED it??? I’d never be able to use the toilet again!
It’s been a challenge, Annette!
Don’t be calling me! I would’ve been screaming too! You did good.
I’m still trembling. 🙂
Oh Poor Rose, and I know how you HATE snakes. I’m sorry you had that terrifying experience. And from the snake’s perspective you were pretty darn scary too! Remember you can call me if the big guy isn’t home and it’s too much for you to handle. That’s if I’m not traveling…………..
Oh, Jamie, if I thought I could have contained it for even 5 minutes, I’d have run for a neighbor. No way I could have lived with it for 20 minutes. But thanks!