Last night I'm having a rather A.D.D. evening and what started as taking out the trash for pick up turned into cussing a snake.

Thursday mornings is one of my trash pick up days, so I always try to get the trash out after dinner the night before. Otherwise, I get caught up on this infernal computer in the morning and run late and never get the trash out. See? I'm trying to learn to be responsible!

Anyway, typically A.D.D. hour for me. Took the trash and spied the hibiscus by the back door. Previous resident never cleaned up the beds, never weeded. I tackled the front beds a couple weeks ago (I planted SHRUBS!) but never got around to the back. The poor hibiscus is suffocating with all the grass and weeds growing in the middle of it. So, I drop the bag of trash, grab a rake and start working my way through.

Snake. Damn it. Freaking thing was hanging out in all those weeds. (Knew there was a good reason to clean it out.) So I run it off, keep cleaning. An hour later, all the yard work is done. Except mowing, of course. I don't mow.

But that damn snake. Under the house. I hate snakes. I blame my father for trying to force me to pet one. Screw that.

(For the record, I finished a glass of tea last night before bed and went to the kitchen to wash the glass. Noticed then--4 hours later, mind you--that I'd never actually put the trash out. Sigh.)
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