A Freaking SNAKE.

Oh the joys of homeownership. Chief among them is washing clothes (sans quarters) in your very own garage. Ah, the freedom of sorting your household recycling and gathering masses of moving debris for Monday's trash pickup. If you are anything like me you will assert your landed gentry status in unflattering shorts and a stained t-shirt. Perhaps even bare-foot and pregnant if you want to get really specific.

On Friday afternoon I was reveling in my be-shorted, non-shod, mortgage-owning status while tossing a big bag of trash into our garage dumpster.

SQUISH goes the trash
SMACK goes the dumpster lid
HISS goes the big. freaking. snake.

Yup, directly behind the dumpster was a foot and a half of brown snake tail (not a garden snake!) thrashing around in a panic. Now I know that this is post shedding season when snakes are blind, and the only thing that will ease this snake's distress is biting my fuzzy ass.

So I run like my junior high track coach always wanted me to. Knees up, eyes front, record time! I also added some arm flapping and mindless screaming. Just in case I could increase the distance between me and the snake by clawing at the air or using sonic propulsion.

Anybody else been introduced to a snake in a memorable way?