I have critter-induced post-traumatic stress disorder. I've had nightmares, out-of-body experiences, jumpiness, you name it. All because of a three-foot bull snake Papa Ball spotted crawling from our attic last weekend.
We live in the middle of town. There's no reason any three-foot critter should exist here. My former country-ish life has returned to haunt me, bringing with it its gross, slimy, scaly critter trappings.
So, this is how I've been feeling. Imagine my reaction when, earlier this morning, I walked in on this:
Do you see it?
I had to lure my child away from the "fugie" using Mini Chips Ahoy (lifesavers, people, livesavers) and trick the little critter into jumping onto the closest thing I could find so I could promptly fling him out the front door, all the while screaming much more like the little frog was in my pants rather than on my favorite laundry basket.
I have snakes and frogs in my house. My son wants to put them all in his mouth. And, yes, I play favorites with my laundry baskets.
Please send help.