Unfortunately, I have learned to become a morning person. For 38 years, I was a night person. And then I married the 'love of my life morning person' and became a mom to more 'little morning people'.
The cats go out for their morning carousing at 4AM. They return about 5AM, depending on the weather conditions and temperatures. Most mornings upon their return, the cats bring home a surprise. This surprise could be a cockroach, a gigantic moth, any other bug or insect, a bird, a squirrel, a mouse, a rat, or a snake.
Lately, it is garden snakes. They love to bring these snakes home. ALIVE.
{ALIVE, because that is part of the game we play every single day - "CATCH THE CRITTER"!}
Recently, the cat snuck back in the house before 5AM and brought a playdate. A visitor. However, this particular playdate did not want to play "TAG" any longer and he took off to start his own game of "HIDE AND SEEK".
I was not quite bright eyed and bushy tailed at 4:40AM... so I missed the game of "TAG". Apparently, I also missed the game of "HIDE AND SEEK".
Later on, I decided to do a load of laundry. DARKS. I picked up the load from the basket (that was sitting on the floor), threw it in the washing machine, poured in detergent and other harsh chemicals, pushed START, heard the rinse cycle, the spin cycle, and the final beeper.
I started to throw the load into the dryer when I noticed a string had come out of a jacket or shorts or something. I reached in to grab the string. And since it is now 5:33AM, my coffee has kicked in and my eyeballs have been pried open.
Good Lord, Mother of Mercy, Praise Jesus, Holy Shit ...
I washed a snake.
I wish I could say I didn't have a full load and that I have taken up snake-washing in all my free time. When his friends see him back in the garden, all squeaky clean and shiny, his friends will be lining up for this new snake spa treatment!
PS For all you PETA people, this was an accident. I do not participate in snake washing. Snake handling. Snake anything. And the snake survived the washing! He is happy to be back in his garden hole.