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- - - - - Snakes and Garages - - - - -

I don't like snakes.

Before we moved to the wilds of SouthEast Jawja, my exposure to snakes was pretty much limited to the variety of rattlesnake you get in California.

Rattlers in California are fairly civilized, as snakes go - you get too close and you hear Carmen Miranda's castanets going off, and you hop back right smartly, and make a wide path around Mr. Rattlesnake. Then you both continue on your merry way, each much relieved that other wasn't feeling frisky.

Well, snakes in SE Georgia are a little different. They don't rattle. They do hiss, a bit. And the miserable little sods like to hide in my garage. In this case, behind my clothes washing machine. Some of 'em are water moccasins, which are poisonous.

Saturday mornings here at The Swamp are reserved for coffee, newspaper, and loafing. OWW rolls out at about 8 AM, opens the garage door, staggers strolls suavely down the driveway and picks up the morning paper, and blearily greets the new day.

I followed this routine last Saturday. So far, so good. I even got to my favorite garage chair, with paper, eagerly anticipating seeing what foolishness the politicos and Molly Ivins have decided to spout today. My coffee was still steaming gently, my cigarette was releasing fragrant clouds, and The Idiot Dogs were bounding about the lawn investigating, when I heard The Slither.

Idiot Dog #1 ("Tiny" by name, 3 years, 30 pounds, black-and-brindle) trotted up with her ears pointed forward. Idiot Dog #2 ("Bruiser", 10 weeks, 9 pounds, brown - and no, I did name him) ran up, then stopped by Tiny, with his tail-stump going to beat the band. And OWW is saying "What the hell is that?"

So I moved towards the sound, Very Cautiously, and whaddaya know? Here comes Mr. Snake, a very handsome black-bodied specimen, poking his miserable head, and about 3 feet besides, out from behind the washing machine.

Oh....crap. I hauled the dogs, and myself, back inside the house.

Some of you may remember that we had the same thing happen last year, in April I think it was. THAT time we called Animal Control, who sent out 3 Sheriff's Deputies and a guy from the DNR. And that time, it WAS a mocassin.

THIS TIME, I decided to get properly dressed and positively locate Mr. Snake before calling Animal Control.

After informing Mrs. OWW of the situation ("Again?"), and telling the girls to stay OUT of the garage ("A snake, Daddy? You gonna kill it?"), I went back out to the garage and looked. And.... no snake.

I poked, and prodded, and shoved boxes around - no snake.

Shoot, shucks, and other manly comments.

Four hours later, I had emptied that damned garage.

No snake.

I did have my neighbor's Ford F250 pickup filled with trash, which I trundled up to the landfill. (Thanks, Charlie. I owe you one, in spite of your rude comments about the state of my garage.)

I never did get past page four of the "A" section of the paper. And I never get to the editorials. Mrs. OWW and I now know which boxes contain what, and where they are. And we have a good idea of what to do with most of that... stuff. In about a month, or a little less, we will be able to get at least one car into the garage.

And if I ever see that snake, he's going to be one sorry reptile.

This Saturday, Mrs. OWW and I continued the Great Garage Cleanup and Throwout Party. The procedure is:

1. Haul box outside to driveway, left side.

2. Open box, inspect contents.

3. Discard 90% of contents of box, to right side of driveway.

4. Store the "good" 10% in an appropriate place.

5. Load Charlie's truck with trash, flattened boxes, and plastic trash bags full of packing paper.

And the whole while, working in 85F+ temps, with humidity of at least 90%, feel the sweat drip off the end of your nose.

I made two trips to the landfill yesterday. Including the trip from last weekend, Mrs. OWW and I have moved over 1000 pounds of .... junk out of that garage.

With little creative shuffling, I'm sure that I could now get one car into the garage. But we will continue to sort, empty, and throwout until such time as we both can declaim "Enough already! We are well and truly DONE!"

And the peace which passeth understanding shall return to The Swamp.

posted by Ward at 8:46 AM |