We have to move.
I understand that this may seem sudden but once I have relayed the events of my day to you all, I think you will agree that it is time to drop everything and start researching realtors.
Here's what happened:
After a few days of rain, today was finally clear and since the ground is very soft at the moment, I decided that this would be the perfect time to go out and transplant this enormous shasta daisy that is taking over the rock garden. After moving it, I went back to smooth everything over etc. Unfortunately, while doing this I accidentally flipped over a rock and guess what was under it?
Another freaking snake, that's what!
One of those small snakes that for a hopeful minute I thought might just be the King Kong Godzilla Monster of earthworms but then, just like our last snake adventure, realized it was all coiled up, snake-like and evil.
And, of course, it had six inch fangs that were dripping blood and venom in copious amounts.
At this point, I screamed a very offensive curse word loudly enough that I'm pretty sure they could hear me at the church down the street.
My normal reaction would, obviously, be to run shrieking into the house....but Bubba was outside with me. And because my life is one giant catastrophic coincidence after another, it was at this exact moment that a stray dog decided to meander up and bark at the dog next door. Which means that Bubba ran over in a frenzy, jumping all over the exact same garden that had just given rise to the serpent from hell.
Therefore, I couldn't run inside because:
A. The snake could go slinking and sliming and slithering to some other spot in the yard, just waiting to jump out and attack another time.
B. I'm a firm believer in "No Dog Left Behind" and, since there is no calming Bubba when there is a stray dog in the vicinity and he was jumping around in a manner that just begged an evil predator to notice and attack, I knew I wouldn't get him in the house with me.
But I also couldn't just go into a frenzy of my own and started chopping the snake to pieces with my shovel like some whacked out snake serial killer because that's bad for my karma..
So, fueled by adrenaline and maternal instinct for the ridiculous dog next to me, I scooped up a huge shovelful of dirt with the snake on top, scurried to the other gate like a maniac, ran out to the front and flung the dirt and snake and rocks and whatnot into the street.
I'm not too proud to say I was crying and screaming all the curse words I've ever heard as I was running.
What the neighbors thought of this display is anyone's guess...but I suspect their opinion of me is none too flattering.
In summary, I have become the lunatic of the neighborhood, our rock garden is, apparently, a teeming hotbed of serpent activity, and I don't think I can live in these kind of conditions.