G, E and a snake!

Today I got to leave work early because Jess was out with her school chorus at a competition and then a trip to Canobie Lake Park. So there was no one here to meet Geoff. I didn't get ahold of the neighbor girl upstairs in time this morning, once I realized that he'd be home alone... so I got to pull leave early on a Friday for boy duty.

I had plans when I got home. There was vacuuming to be done. And dishes were waiting. And a journal entry. And floorplans. And I wanted to take Geoff out for an hour and maybe fly his pirate kite, which hasn't been flown since the shores of OBX a month and a half ago.

Geoff got home, and he didn't want to go out and play, he didn't want to do anything. He was tired... so he curled up on the couch and played some video games. Doug came home, and I realized I just really didn't feel like doing anything either. I folded three loads of laundry, just to get them off of the bed so I could take a nap.

And I napped.

Oh, Lordy, did I nap. I died for about an hour. Barking dogs. Huge semi-trucks. Paving equipment and loud radios across the street. Geoff getting pissed at Sly Cooper. None of these thinks disturbed this sleep of deep death. I woke in time for Doug to come into the bedroom and mumble at me that I needed to move so he could nap. I was on his side of the bed, and that was just ... unacceptable.

I felt pretty crappy before I took a nap. Now I feel stupendous.

It's good that I feel so great. Because I have been taught the next step in the floor plan operations, and M has asked me if I would be so kind as to assist him with that part of the project. I now have the power to determine where our screens will be placed in grocery stores, and can go ahead and position them in the document.

Mwah ha ha ha.

Our neighbor Emily found a snake.

She kept it in a bug cage for a couple of days, and finally this morning her mother told her to let it go. I do not know what garter snakes are interested in eating, and I'm sure that in the bug cage, whatever she could provide for it wasn't what it wanted, so I'm incredibly glad her mom went nuts and yelled at her to release it.

So she brought it over to release in our yard. Naturally.

Now, many of you know that my husband Doug hates snakes with a mad, burning passion. His inner Pappy Snyder comes out and he goes insane when he sees a snake... the Kittanning Hillbilly deep in his core emerges, and he starts yelling in Pittsburghese and he gets a hoe or starts the lawn mower and is bent on destruction of the slithery beast.

Picture Groundskeeper Willie with a beer belly and less of a crazy head of red hair... and no Scottish accent.

A herpetologist he is not. A herpemurderer he is.

I didn't get mad at E for bringing it over here (or her mother for suggesting she do so... It's nature. It's all good to me) but I was sure to tell E to release it down by the creek (or, crick for you WPA folk). What does she do? She lets it out at the foot of our deck and she and Geoff lean over and watch it slither around in the grass, not heading anywhere fast.

Duh?

"Um, E honey, you best take that down to the creek, LIKE I SAID TO, or if it's still hanging out there when Mr. G comes home, it won't live long."

Man.

So the kids took it down the creek (aka crick) and let it go. It gleefully slithered to the fast moving water and was gone before I could wish it good luck and good riddance.

And we almost missed the bus. But it was fun and worth it, just to be outside, settin' free the snake. I had this happy feeling that we were all living so nicely with nature in these parts, and it joyfully welled up in my heart.

Then, I saw the dead fox.

He was the next town over, on the side of the road. He looked as if he was positioned there carefully after his death by whomever hit him or perhaps another passerby. I don't think he crossed the road and laid in his final repose so perfectly. Plus, there was a tell-tale drag mark across the road, and his feet were arranged rather politely.

An animal in death throes does not arrange feet politely upon collapse.

He was large, and very very beautiful and reddish brown. My heart sank when I saw him. I've never seen a fox in this area, much less one this size, with beautiful fur and a lovely, healthy body. I can only imagine how the person who hit him must have felt. Surprised, I'm sure... reverent enough to stop the vehicle and move him so he wouldn't be run over again and completely splayed across the road, like the turtle that is out by our driveway right now (making me swoon with nausea each time I pass it). Guilty. Sad. I know I felt sad.

When I drove home, he was gone. Animal control must have come out to remove him. Funny... they'll leave a squirrel, a racoon and a billion turtles, but in less than five hours they're out collecting the carcass of a fox with gorgeous fur.

I wonder what will become of him.