snakes ....

... in my muthafcukin' basement!

as if the last few days has not been enough of a whirlwind, topsy-turvy week, we find this new addition moved into my house -- a garter snake curled into a ball lay at the bottom of my basement steps.

when mam came back up from the basement the other night, he seemed a bit, well, freaked. hands in his pockets, he just kept looking up at the ceiling, until i had to ask him what the hell he was up to. he just looked at me with a weird look in his eye. i asked him if he found the skeleton from the mouse that snapped a trap -- yes, i gave in and resorted to a kill-trap after every mouse in our zip code became aware that we were the only house that offered room and board without fear of being smooshed or snapped -- and managed to escape without a trace.

"we have a snake in the basement."

after peeling myself down from the ceiling, i responded rationally. "well, get him out. now. if you're not sure how, get a hockey stick and a box. and a drink. an alcoholic beverage is an absolute necessity. one before and after, please. just get him out of here. and let me know when you're coming upstairs so i can be in a locked room."

he was clearly shaken, but i was not going down there to play samuel l. jackson. no way. in our untraditional marriage, there are very few occassions where we ascribe to traditional gender roles. killing bugs and ridding our house of vermin are it. he cooks, i clean. he does laundry, i put it away. we both take out the garbage. nope, he muthafcukin' OWNS the extermination business.

i realize it's cold outside and all creatures great and small are trying desperately to find a place to get warm. listen here, li'l creatures -- my home is not it. i already have two big dogs who leave enough dog hair, eat enough food and give enough love for all of you. once i throw picking up after mam into the list, you'll understand i don't have room for any more animals. please find another place to go. i realize the woods at the back of my property are your summer homes. although my friends may call my house the "lodge" or "chalet", it really isn't. and we're certainly not looking for any new creatures to add to our zoo.

if you do decide to try to come in, then be prepared for my own samuel l. jackson to escort your ass back outside.