Really, the only downside to living in this house is the "handywork" of the people who lived here before (another blog entry) and the fact that it is located smack in the middle of nature, which is beautiful to look at, but full of pesky animals. My yard:
Fast forward 24 hours to Sunday afternoon. After spending all morning planting flowers, I decided to take a lunch break. I entered the laundry room to get something from the pantry and I saw something strange out of the corner of my eye. Turning toward it in disbelief, I began to register that there was a snake in the corner of the laundry room. Now, anyone who knows me even a little knows that I do not care much for nature or any animals other than dogs, cows, and horses, so a snake is a big problem for me. My general policy is that if an animal is living outside of my home, I won't bother it, but when an animal enters my home, it will either die or be removed immediately.
My first reaction was to scream and run out of the room, which left me standing in the living room trying to figure out the best way to quickly get the snake out of my house. I contemplated calling someone, but decided that I didn't know anyone who could help. The best solution that I was able to come up with in the space of about three seconds was to get my "bird tongs" (tongs that I use to remove the dead birds from my woodstove) and use them to remove the creature. Naturally, I keep the bird tongs outside, so I ran out to the porch to grab them and then I went back into the laundry room, grabbed the snake with the tongs, and headed for the back door. Of course, I screamed all the way because it seemed like the right thing to do--who would hold a snake silently? Once I got out to the porch, I accidentally dropped it and it started to slither toward the house. I grabbed it again and hurled it into the yard. After landing on the rocks at the edge of the creek, it began to slowly slither toward the house again, stopping for a while in the middle of the yard:
It eventually slithered off into the sunset, leaving me freaked out, paranoid that there might be more, and more than a little impressed with myself for having dealt with the situation on my own.
Where was the dog when all of this was going on, you ask? On the porch, of course, where she always is at this time of year, and completely oblivious to me screaming about the snake.
Maybe that was for the best--I'm not sure what she would have done with a snake...