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One Way to Skin a Snake

Fiddledaddy took the kids away on Sunday so that I could tackle the garage.  A daunting task, to be sure.  But  the thought of having the place to myself so that I could sort, organize, toss, and generally FILE ALL MY CRAP filled me with a little giddiness.’

The garage had become a catchall for everything we have been tripping over in the house.  It is the holding area for all the things that either need to get thrown out, or given away to charity.

Since the garage was a chilly 145 degrees, I decided it best to work in my sports bra and shorts.  And I defied any solicitor to come knocking at my door.  I think they’ve learned their lesson, since the last time someone came calling trying to sell me something I don’t need, I answered the door while dying my hair.  And giving myself a facial.

The local solicitors now give my property a rather wide berth when walking door to door.

I was about 4 minutes into the clean out, and had begun pulling things away from the one wall that I had been eying to place shelving.

I started with all the 4 foot white metal baby gates that use to make my house as secure as Fort Knox.  Until Jensen learned that he could disassemble them and use them as a battering ram against an antagonistic sister.

One by one I drug them so that I could file them in an organized fashion.  And I noticed something trailing behind one gate as I slid it along the floor.

Upon closer inspection, I discovered that the long trailing item had at one time housed a rather long snake.

I turned and ran into the house, slamming the garage door, then locking it.  Until I remembered that I had left my phone and iced tea out in the garage.

Slowly, I reopened the door, and tiptoed out to retrieve the needed items, and again ran inside to call the real estate agent in order to put the house up for sale.

I called Fiddledaddy to tell him that all work had come to a full and complete halt.  He said something to the affect that I needed to toughen up.  After all, Sarah Palin can kill a wild boar.

I told HIM that Sarah Palin’s husband lets HER have a GUN.

And if you’re thinking, look Texas girl, just go out and get yourself a gun!  I’d be forced to respond, “Have you ever seen me shoot?”

I’d likely blow my own foot off.  And then what good would I be to these people?  It’s the same argument that Fiddledaddy would use as to why I shouldn’t handle anything sharp.

Or flammable.

Case in point.

At this point I just got mad.  Mad at the stupid snake.  Mad at the stupid snake that had invaded my space and likely laid her stupid eggs in my garage.  Which I needed to organize.

So I put on my socks and combat boots.  And reluctantly donned a t-shirt.  In case the snake should seek me out and leave her venomous bite on my leg.  I most certainly would hate to be found dead wearing only a sports bra and ratty shorts.

I began my work again, making as much noise as humanly possible.  Banging gates around, and talking loudly.  It’s totally okay.  The neighbors already think I’m crazy.

I pulled out more gates.  And what luck, I found that the snake was even longer than I first suspected!  The tail end of the snake was attached to yet another gate.  I kept pulling at gate pieces.  OH FOR PETE’S SAKE, I found the head of the snake skin.  How did I know?  Because the snake skin was fully intact WITH THE MOUTH WIDE OPEN IN A SILENT SCREAM.

My scream wasn’t so silent.

When I regained consciousness, I kept on working. For hours, trying to rid my mind of that OPEN MOUTHED SNAKE SKIN.  I parked the gates against a wall, neatly filed, with the snake skin pieces still attached.

For show and tell later.

I relayed the information to Fiddledaddy.  WHAT?  YOU LEFT THE SNAKE SKIN OUT THERE?

He must be new.  Like I would get close enough to extricate the nasty thing from the gate slats.  As if.

I must say that the discovery of the snake skin has curtailed my recurrent late night rendezvous with the garage freezer, to assess my snacking choices.

So that snake skin indeed has a silver lining.


17 Responses to One Way to Skin a Snake

  • Oh my gosh
    what is up with all the snake skins ??
    I have found several over the past three weeks while mowing and weeding in the small flower bed in our backyard ,etc..
    It makes me not want to ever leave the great indoors.
    I love the outdoors and in case no one has noticed the days are getting shorter .
    Help !!!!!!
    Loved your post.
    I really do hope fiddle daddy can find a way to discover the snake and get rid of it too !
    Blessings to you .
    Big Texas hugs
    Happy Trails

  • Sorry.

    Can’t type.

    Too busy CONVULSING and near gagging.

  • Thankyouverymuch for not including a picture. I have chills just thinking about it.

    Bleccch and ::Shudder::.

    I hope that’s the last one you find! (And that if you do see another one, that it’s not attached to a living snake.)

  • Also, I hope for your sake that the snake was sterile and orphaned.

  • I don’t do snakes. If one came around me…or my property it would be his last time. It would be a shoot out at the O-K corral. Ick and gross.
    You got guts girl—-going back out there in your jungle garage….facing that anaconda, well at least his scary skin. Okay, so maybe it isn’t really a 250 lb. 12 ft. long anaconda….but still…….

  • Ick, Ick and Ick!!!! I hate snakes. I need to start a blog just to write the story about finding one IN MY LAUNDRY!!!! Hope the thing is long gone and the garage is organized and clean soon!

  • My husband won’t let me use a gun on a snake either. Something about ricochet. Actually, my fear is grazing/missing it and making it really angry.

    So I bang them with a shovel until they are dead. Hubby complains that it bends the head of the shovel but it does kill the snake.

    I find it handy to use the shovel in snake id – because I like to know exactly how freaked out I should be about a snake being that close. Most snakes won’t sit still while you google them and that is where the shovel comes in handy.

    As a side note, my great-grandmother would use a hoe to kill snakes, she could cut their head off with it. I don’t have the accuracy she does which is why I recommend the shovel.

  • Imagine my face when I walked outside this spring to see what had my kids mesmerized. They were sitting on their swing set watching two snakes about 4 feet away writhing and twisting around each other. I somehow picked up both kids and bounded into the house with about 3 steps. The best part is that I found out later the snakes were mating.

  • RUN!!! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!! I hate snakes and I will stay locked in the house and not come out until Hubs comes home to kill it!

  • At first I thought – pshaw I would NOT be freaked out by finding a snake skin in my garage. But, yeh, no – that would instantly become my hubby’s project!

  • I’d definitely start wearing shoes in the garage!

  • A friend who lived in Florida found a snake in his garage one time and ran over it with his car…about 40 times. Maybe when you clean out your garage you can park your car in there and use it for a weapon!
    Just sayin’

  • I think it was left there by a miscreant amphibian who was being inducted into the local chapter of the LintLicking Lizard Gang.

    Kindof a hazing. as you will.

    (I continue to be amazed at how far I can take this stuf.)

    HA! I knew who you were before I even put my reading glasses on! 🙂

  • yeah um and sorry to burst your bubble but most snakes come in pairs

  • On a positive note, snakes eat frogs! (You have, however, curbed my desire to organize the garage… I’ll just let the movers pack everything in an unorganized jumble…)

  • What!! No Photo!! I live in NH we do not have many snakes at all and those we do have are not poisonous so I would have loved to see the skin!!! But I am fraid of spiders and never take photos of them so all is forgiven. Great stroy

  • EEEEEEWWWWWWW! Having grown up in a country where snake = poison (none of these wimpy garter snakes), that would have sent me running for the hills. I think you were incredibly brave to venture into the garage again. You deserve a medal. Or at least a Girl Scout badge.