A day at the spa
I'm not sure why some things creep me out. I'm not really a girlie girl. I like lotion, have a large collection of lipstick I do not wear and I love cheap jewelry, but I don't fall to pieces over stuff..... I don't think I do anyway. But stuff creeps me out sometimes. I'm sure stuff creeps you out too.
This morning I reached the point of the Heebie Jeebie dance. You know the dance, you have done the dance. It goes something like this, you are startled by something ( insert your own fear here), after the startling you get cold chills, pinch your shoulder blades together and then squeeze your knees together only for them to bust apart in a squirm / urge to run, you may or may not achieve the run. The Heebie Jeebie dance is sometimes accompanied by a need to squeal or aghhhh. Either is fine and appropriate. The squeal will be followed by a involuntary clinching of all of your muscles, even muscles you did not know you could tighten, like the scalp, who knew. You may also feel the need to walk like Frankenstein. The Heebie Jeebie dance(should it be hyphenated?) may be proceeded by a short / long sprint if the creepy occurrence is deemed harmful.
My morning sprint was prompted by a snake.....
We have a small veggie garden in our back yard. Prior to planting this years harvest we had hopes to steam out some ants and bake their residence. We covered said garden with black plastic, thus creating a green house effect. Heres the science; heat in and it stays in, cooks the unsuspecting creatures of God and thus no need for chemical annihilation of ants. Your tomatoes will be safer.
Today was the black plastic removal day. I'm glad to report the ants are mostly gone, mostly. But the black plastic created a warm steamy spa like resort for some of God's other creatures. I have not taken my Malaria pill as of late and I hope from the rainwater collection on top of the plastic that I have not contracted some unknown and soon to be discovered illness. I stray.... the snake. You do not want to be a snake in my small spa resort veggie garden, it will not turn out well for you. I promise it will not turn out well. For those who may be members of PETA or if you are judgmental when not involved in the situation stop reading now. SPOILER ALERT.
I removed the lumber holding down the plastic and pilled back the black skin, and there in the first garden bed to be uncovered was the snake. Cue sprint and Hebbie-Jebbie dance, (I decided to go with the hyphen) exit broken gate garden right and squeal like girl at a NKTOB concert.
From a safe distance I regained composure and decided I needed back up. This is where my True Love comes in. Everyone needs someone in this world to have their back. Until my last breath he has mine, this is why I married, not so someone could kill the spiders or protect me from the bad, but so I did not have to face it alone. He is my partner in life, bless his heart. I tell my Love, that there is a snake and I need support in my daring Indiana Jones adventure. “Can I finish showering?” “Yes...” I tell Lee. This is not a clothing optional invite. I add “....and get dressed.... please”
When you talk to people about snakes, there is by chance that person that is a “live and let live activist”. That person (Rhonda) might say “It's more scared of you than you are if it.” my reply would be “it damn well better be.” I had given it time to go to it's “scared of me spot”, but it did not.... it was still there. Lee retrieved a hoe and shovel from the garage. Armed with hoe in hand, in my multi-colored pastel striped rain boots I took a few deep breaths. With encouragement from my back up I ended the existence of one of God's creatures. I had done it. I shook the hoe over my head like a Tuscan Raider in Star Wars. I shook out another chill and clinching of my shoulder blades at what I had done. All this for veggies.
Que second Hebbie- Jebbie dance. Because there was one big-ass spider crawling out from under the cozy black spa over there. It is going down. Why does it not see that I have a shovel? Spread the word spider. Scurry. There is no “Welcome to my Garden” sign.
I will let you know when I have too many tomatoes.