As I was reading on the couch during the boys' naptime, I noticed something move on the floor. I glanced up expecting a fly or other small insect. But no such luck. It was a snake!!! Now, it was only a little bitty thing, the thickness of a pencil and maybe a foot long. But it was definitely a snake. The devil's animal. Slithering and nasty. IN MY HOUSE. I freaked out, called Heath, hyperventilating the whole time. He calmly told me to get a broom and squish it or sweep it outside or into a bucket. I couldn't bring myself to do any of those. I just stood there panicking! But finally I worked up the nerve to get a tupperware and push it in with the broom. I flipped it over and piled a ton of books on it, just in case it should try to escape. Then I bravely waited for my knight-in-shining-armor of a husband to come home and rescue me. I have proved to myself that I am much more of a whimp than I ever knew. Especially when a few days later I heard Amanda's story of the 7-foot snake she carried out of her house with her bare hands!
