The vacuum adventures continue
This will be a long one. Remember the lizard incident? Well, the vacuum has proved valuable once again, only this time, not with a lizard. Nope.
A snake.
In the house.
Yeah.
It goes like this. Trey had been napping for about an hour, and Brandon had been in and out a few times saying he was going to mow the yard. After not hearing from Brandon for a little while, and not hearing the mower, I decided to go check on him.
Looked out the windows all around the house - didn't see him. Opened the door to the basement den - didn't hear him. Walked down the stairs and across the room, which was rather dark, as the shades were pulled. Just outside the door to the unfinished part of the basement, I saw what looked like a shoestring.
Hmm. Why would a shoestring be there? (Fear settles in.) Oh help, that's too short to be a shoestring. Gotta go get my weapon.
Dashed up the stairs to the pantry, where my weapon is kept. It is a scraper that we used when taking up the vinyl floor while remodeling the house. I've tried to use it on a snake before - an outdoor snake - but failed. In theory, though, it seems to be the perfect tool for chopping a snake in half.
Dashed back down the stairs. The snake had moved a little, on its way into the unfinished basement. For the record, he was probably as wide as a finger and about a foot long. I bravely walked over and slammed the scraper down onto the snake.
Didn't work. See, he was laying on the carpet, and apparently the carpet gave him enough cushion that the scraper didn't get to do its job. Instead, it made him mad. He coiled up and got in that super-scary position where he was ready to strike.
Um, now I'm scared. What do I do? I had no clue where Brandon was, not that it mattered much in the grand scheme of things. Brandon is deathly afraid of snakes. I mean, screaming like a little girl, pant-wetting scared. So by default, I'm the snake handler on our property. It's not a job I'm terribly happy about.
Anyway, after staring down the snake for a few minutes and trying to think of anything I could use to kill or remove him, I settled on the vacuum. But I couldn't leave to go get it. If he were to crawl out of sight, we would have had to burn the house to the ground.
So I opened the door to outside and began yelling for Brandon. He had made a very inconvenient visit to our neighbor's house, and it took about 15 minutes for him to show up.
"Go around the house, to the pantry, get the vacuum, come downstairs, and bring the vacuum to me! Don't look around when you get down here!"
With an "oh, Lord" Brandon took off and quickly brought the vacuum to me, back turned and eyes closed. Then as he sprinted back up the stairs, I hear, "Need me to help you?"
By this time I'm scared to death, knowing I'm all alone in fighting this tiny snake who had the audacity to come into our house. Bleh!
I crawled up onto the couch that was right beside him, and sucked him up into the vacuum, screaming the whole time. And in a replay of the lizard scene, tossed the vacuum out the door, unplugged and tossed the plug out the door, and slammed the door shut.
Gross! (Insert ten minutes of full body shudders.)
Then it was time to do something about the vacuum. Brandon didn't want the snake anywhere near the house, so the plan at first was to move the vacuum out near the cow pasture. Of course we couldn't do that until Brandon got his gun ready, and until his mom could come over and watch Trey, who was now up.
All that squared away, we headed out to the vacuum. Brandon tried to use a push broom handle to pick it up, and that didn't work too well. So I walked over, picked up the vacuum, and carried it to the fence.
For reasons I can't remember now, we decided we needed to check and see if the snake was in the vacuum, or if he might have already crawled out. My gentleman husband was kind enough to go get me some gloves so I could take the hose off and get to the bag. I did that, then tried to look down into the hose, but couldn't see anything, so tossed it aside. Used a stick to pull the bag out, and then beat the living daylights out of the bag with my trusty scraper. No snake in the bag.
Started to walk back toward the house to look in the grass, and on a whim, picked up the hose again. Beat it on the ground. Out squiggles the snake. I start yelling for Brandon to shoot him, trying to point out where he is in the grass. Brandon starts hopping and dancing around like a kangaroo, trying to get his gun ready, meanwhile the snake is slithering away.
Never got a shot off. He crawled into the cow pasture over some rocks, which Brandon didn't want to shoot at.
At least he was crawling away from the house.
We've been a little antsy in the house today. Checking under furniture, jumping at little noises. A little antsy.
I surprised myself with my bravery today. Not that I want to do this anymore. The vacuum, the summer's MVP, has so earned my respect. All things considered, I'm surprised at my husband's current bravery. At this moment, he is sitting in the basement den by himself, something he swore he wouldn't do for 8 weeks when we were in the midst of the ordeal. Of course, he is surrounded by a makeshift arsenal of various golf clubs and my scraper.
What a day.
A snake.
In the house.
Yeah.
It goes like this. Trey had been napping for about an hour, and Brandon had been in and out a few times saying he was going to mow the yard. After not hearing from Brandon for a little while, and not hearing the mower, I decided to go check on him.
Looked out the windows all around the house - didn't see him. Opened the door to the basement den - didn't hear him. Walked down the stairs and across the room, which was rather dark, as the shades were pulled. Just outside the door to the unfinished part of the basement, I saw what looked like a shoestring.
Hmm. Why would a shoestring be there? (Fear settles in.) Oh help, that's too short to be a shoestring. Gotta go get my weapon.
Dashed up the stairs to the pantry, where my weapon is kept. It is a scraper that we used when taking up the vinyl floor while remodeling the house. I've tried to use it on a snake before - an outdoor snake - but failed. In theory, though, it seems to be the perfect tool for chopping a snake in half.
Dashed back down the stairs. The snake had moved a little, on its way into the unfinished basement. For the record, he was probably as wide as a finger and about a foot long. I bravely walked over and slammed the scraper down onto the snake.
Didn't work. See, he was laying on the carpet, and apparently the carpet gave him enough cushion that the scraper didn't get to do its job. Instead, it made him mad. He coiled up and got in that super-scary position where he was ready to strike.
Um, now I'm scared. What do I do? I had no clue where Brandon was, not that it mattered much in the grand scheme of things. Brandon is deathly afraid of snakes. I mean, screaming like a little girl, pant-wetting scared. So by default, I'm the snake handler on our property. It's not a job I'm terribly happy about.
Anyway, after staring down the snake for a few minutes and trying to think of anything I could use to kill or remove him, I settled on the vacuum. But I couldn't leave to go get it. If he were to crawl out of sight, we would have had to burn the house to the ground.
So I opened the door to outside and began yelling for Brandon. He had made a very inconvenient visit to our neighbor's house, and it took about 15 minutes for him to show up.
"Go around the house, to the pantry, get the vacuum, come downstairs, and bring the vacuum to me! Don't look around when you get down here!"
With an "oh, Lord" Brandon took off and quickly brought the vacuum to me, back turned and eyes closed. Then as he sprinted back up the stairs, I hear, "Need me to help you?"
By this time I'm scared to death, knowing I'm all alone in fighting this tiny snake who had the audacity to come into our house. Bleh!
I crawled up onto the couch that was right beside him, and sucked him up into the vacuum, screaming the whole time. And in a replay of the lizard scene, tossed the vacuum out the door, unplugged and tossed the plug out the door, and slammed the door shut.
Gross! (Insert ten minutes of full body shudders.)
Then it was time to do something about the vacuum. Brandon didn't want the snake anywhere near the house, so the plan at first was to move the vacuum out near the cow pasture. Of course we couldn't do that until Brandon got his gun ready, and until his mom could come over and watch Trey, who was now up.
All that squared away, we headed out to the vacuum. Brandon tried to use a push broom handle to pick it up, and that didn't work too well. So I walked over, picked up the vacuum, and carried it to the fence.
For reasons I can't remember now, we decided we needed to check and see if the snake was in the vacuum, or if he might have already crawled out. My gentleman husband was kind enough to go get me some gloves so I could take the hose off and get to the bag. I did that, then tried to look down into the hose, but couldn't see anything, so tossed it aside. Used a stick to pull the bag out, and then beat the living daylights out of the bag with my trusty scraper. No snake in the bag.
Started to walk back toward the house to look in the grass, and on a whim, picked up the hose again. Beat it on the ground. Out squiggles the snake. I start yelling for Brandon to shoot him, trying to point out where he is in the grass. Brandon starts hopping and dancing around like a kangaroo, trying to get his gun ready, meanwhile the snake is slithering away.
Never got a shot off. He crawled into the cow pasture over some rocks, which Brandon didn't want to shoot at.
At least he was crawling away from the house.
We've been a little antsy in the house today. Checking under furniture, jumping at little noises. A little antsy.
I surprised myself with my bravery today. Not that I want to do this anymore. The vacuum, the summer's MVP, has so earned my respect. All things considered, I'm surprised at my husband's current bravery. At this moment, he is sitting in the basement den by himself, something he swore he wouldn't do for 8 weeks when we were in the midst of the ordeal. Of course, he is surrounded by a makeshift arsenal of various golf clubs and my scraper.
What a day.
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