I’m talking about real, live black snakes in my house -- the place where my family and I eat, sleep, read the paper, watch TV, and live. The first one appeared Sunday evening near the front door. My daughter noticed it, bounded into the family room by saying, “I think I just saw a snake and I almost touched it,” and my husband indeed confirmed the intruder.
Then he took my brand new, All Clad stainless steel frying pan – one heavy sucker, that – and bashed its snake brains in. My hero.
Yesterday afternoon, I phoned my non-essential government lawyer/husband/snake killer to see how his “shutcation” was going and he told me he’d had an exciting day: Snake number 2 received a big boink on the head.
Two down, two days in a row. Eeeeewwwww. Call me superstituous, or call me stupid, but is this an omen or just a really bad metaphor for the state of the nation and the state of my house?
My husband rightly decided it probably made sense to get professionals on the case. So today, snakehunters from Paramount Pest Control appeared on the scene to seal up the house inside and out. When they were done there, we recommended they head over to the Rayburn Building....
Remember those famous (nearly) last words of Dr. Indiana
Jones? “Snakes. I hate
snakes.” Me too. And don’t even get me started on John Boehner….
Day 7 of Shutdown Nation comes to a close at Mrs Sedd's home.
No comments:
Post a Comment