Paranoia

A friend wrote a story of her son finding a snake, I will summarize:

Samuel was caught holding a live water moccasin last week. It was about 5 1/2 feet long and about 6 inches in diameter. The Dad grabbed it, threw it, killed it and buried it.

One of his cousins is a vet tech and said the snake didn't bite because it was too cold and when it gets cold snakes are blind. Samuel had cradled the snake gently so it didn't feel threatened and did not strike at him. The warmth from his body probably felt good.


This was my response to her:



Crystal- I can not handle it! I nearly peed in my pants when I heard this!

I am serious.

Living in the country, I am always always always on the look out for snakes.

My thoughts walking from the back door to my van goes something like this:

Are there any snakes in the laundry room? Maybe there is one outside the door... on the steps perhaps? What if there is one under the steps waiting to strike? Nope- I am safe. ok. Now quickly scan the area between the step and the door of the van. (I then realize that it is hard to see anything with 6 dogs running around- quickly get upset that we have yet to give a puppy away (one came up missing)... and then back to the original task... searching for snakes). OK. There are no snakes in sight, so take one step down , one step across the driveway and climb into the van.

I park the van 2 feet from my house and I still go through this ritual. And it never fails- I get in the van only to realize that I forgot to scan under the van before I stepped onto the driveway! Regret sinks in and I get sick to my stomach just thinking that a snake could have been there.

So I put the van in reverse, hoping that I accidentally- no, purposefully- run over that snake.

As I drive down my country road, if I see a snake I give the van some gas and hope to squish it flat. One time I ran over a snake and eggs shot out of the back of the snake- sending eggs rolling around on the road. Of course, I had to do a U-turn and go back to check it out.

I hate snakes.

They consume too much of my thoughts. Seriously, I spend too much time worrying about them. Sometimes I walk around the inside of my house looking for them. I know that I am paranoid...

but it all goes back to when I was a child and my Dad kept pet snakes in an aquarium in our house- actually, in the bedroom that I shared with my sister.

And yes, they would occassionally get loose and he would have to hunt them down.

Now do you understand why I am so crazy about them?

But enough about me- I am *so* glad that Samuel is ok. It is my worst nightmare that GBK or I will be bitten by one. I am still shaking over the fact that Samuel picked it up. I am physically ill over it today. I am not kidding you.