Snakes Alive!

I should have been packing to go to the Romance Writers of Australia conference tomorrow. Instead, I was battling a snake in my kitchen.

I came home from dropping my little boy at his gran's on the other side of town. When I walked into the kitchen, I noticed one of his baby photos had fallen from the shelves above the kitchen sink (cue spooky music). I shrugged and put it back, went and checked my email.

Heard a crash from the kitchen. This time, it was one of my husband's football trophies (which he insists on putting on display among my ornaments as a tongue-in-cheek sort of joke). Looked up to where it had been and there was the snake.

Now, I wasn't overly worried. It looked like a green tree snake to me. Not deadly or anything, though I understand they can give a nasty bite. But I didn't like the thought of letting that snake out of my sight until my husband came home to deal with it. And yes, I am a wimp, perfectly happy to file getting snakes out of the house under the heading 'man's work'. Besides, my husband grew up in semi-rural area, whereas I'm a suburban girl through and through. I called him at work, and that's when I started to worry. I said, 'It's a tree snake. It's fine.' He said, 'So you're a snake expert now? It could be anything, don't go near it.'

So now I was spooked. I couldn't take my eyes off it in case it scuttled off into some other part of the house. And besides, I needed to start getting dinner ready and I really didn't want to be chopping vegetables with a snake hanging like the Sword of Damocles over my head. Eventually, I couldn't stand it any more. I opened the window next to the snake and tried to shoo it out with a broom. I swear, the thing turned its head and stared at me with utter contempt. Half an hour and buckets of nervous tension later, it had moved a few inches to the right. Finally, I got most of it out the window and pushed up the window until it was almost shut, not wanting to crush Mr. Snakey's tale. And what did he do? Used my soft-heartedness against me and eased his way back in.

Now I was mad. Using two broom-handles, I tried to pick him up to get him out the window, but he dropped neatly into a pot plant on the kitchen bench. I picked up the planter and got it quickly outside, onto the veranda. And that's where he is now, flicking his nasty little tongue and plotting how to get back in. So if you don't hear from me for a while...