Sunday, August 29, 2010

There are no snakes in New Zealand

I'm thinking of relocating. 

Yesterday afternoon, I was going to be a good wifey and help C cut grass.  I push the lawn mower to the back yard, open the gate, crank it up and begin my first row.  I notice some movement in front of the mower.  What do my eyes see?  A snake.  A snake.  A snake.

I let go of the lawn mower and begin a mixture of skipping, running, and hopping to go get C.  I'm sure I looked like a fool.  I was the kind of scared where when you open your mouth no sound comes out.  C is edging the front yard with headphones in so I begin tapping him on the shoulder.  I don't want to scare him since he needs all of his wits for battle. 

He looks up and asks "What?", like a concerned husband.  I calmly say, "There's a snake".  I guess it might have come out as "Ohmygoshthere'sasnake.  There'sasnake".

He asks where.  Can we pause for a minute and think about this question?  Where?  Hmm.  Maybe in the back yard where I was cutting grass? (Love ya C)

He grabs the shovel and we dart back to the backyard.  Now, by this time the snake was probably in Alabama but we (C) looked anyhow.  No trace of the snake. 

Behind our backyard is a nice natural area with a pond.  A lovely resort for snakes really.  I make C walk the entire backyard to ensure that Mr. Snake is gone.  He then asks if I'm ok.  Um no.  I'm not ok.

"What did it look like?", C asks. 

I then reply like a first grader, "It was black and yellow.  It could kill a fellow".  Seriously.  Thank you Mr. Snake Man.  That dollar in elementary school was well worth it.  I know a bad snake when I see one.

C then replies that it was probably just a corn snake.  I disagree.  We don't have any corn and it was black and yellow.  Fellows could be killed.  He was not sensing the urgency!!!

Nevertheless I cut the yard.  I was very proud of myself.  It was almost like desensitization therapy for a great fear.

Hopefully in the future we won't be bothered by snakes.  How is that possible you ask?  With this ingenious product:

I personally don't care if my backyard smells like old lady mothball clothes.  As long as the deadly snakes don't return.


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