Rain, Rain, Go Away So the Snakes Won't Come to Play

Dear Snakes of Fort Bend County,
I know it has been raining a hell of a lot. I know that construction all around our neighborhood with a new boardwalk, a new park, a new water park... all that jazz... has really put you out. I know you have few places left to go and, recently, little to no places that are dry. However, our house is not an option. Do not come into it again. Ever.
Sincerely, Casey


Last night I lived into an insane female stereotype. I went into the kids' bathroom and when I went to open the door and walk out THERE WAS A SNAKE IN OUR HOUSE!!!!!

I literally jumped onto the stool that the kids keep at the sink and started shrieking, "CHRIS!! Snake in the house!!" over and over. I don't know how the kids slept through my freaking out.

Let it now be known that the snake was approximately the size of a pencil. Maybe smaller. Yeah, smaller I think.

Chris came to rescue me by first seeing the size of the snake and then (probably inwardly rolling his eyes at the proportionality of my huge freak out to the small snake) grabbed an empty toy bin to catch it in... and that's when... it slithered into the smallest crack ever IN OUR WALL!!!!!

Ahhhhhh!!! Why God, why?!?!?!

Needless to say I was hyperventilating. Olive (who will henceforth be known as "the best cat ever") came prowling around with obvious hopes of catching the snake. Thanks, Olive.

Then... I saw another snake! Which turned out to be a rubberband.
And then another! Which was my cell phone cord sitting where it always sits.
The third snake turned out to be a pair of sunglasses. Then a pair of shoes. My toothbrush. My own feet. Everything looked serpentine.

After texting my sister for moral support, checking my sheets nine hundred times, and trying to think about anything else in the entire world, I finally fell asleep.

How's that for a Slytherin gal?