Snakes in the drain?

Recently I emptied an old glass of water into the kitchen sink and spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. Jonathan and I joke that I have "spidey vision", because I can almost always catch a spider--big or small--trekking across the ceiling, floor, wall, windowsill, etc. I looked toward the movement and saw camouflage in motion. My first thought was, this is some huge spider! But upon second glance, I realized there was a snake on the kitchen counter top. The following few seconds are a blur to me--all I know is I went from standing next to a snake to standing on the other side of the kitchen island, phone in hand. At some point I must have retrieved my cell phone from the living room but I honestly have no recollection. I called Jonathan and told him there was a snake in the kitchen. He said he was on his way and I said, "But call someone else too!" There was only one thing I knew my husband to be squeamish about: snakes.

It was a long 3 minutes that I forced myself to stare at the snake while Jonathan drove home from the church--I was not going to let that sucker out of my sight! The guys he called for help were unavailable, so we had to settle for the senior pastor--another city boy. Once I got Ross safely strapped into his swing in another room, the three of us discussed our game plan for capturing the snake. I held a pillow case because I thought whenever you see snake handlers, they seem to transport them in cloth sacks. Jonathan held a hoe and a long pole, thinking he could either get the snake to coil around the pole, or just whack the thing with the hoe (on the counter top). Randy (the senior pastor) held nothing in his hands because they were safely tucked in his pockets. When I suggested Jonathan use the pole to scoot the snake into my pillow case, Randy said, "I hate for you to have to do that but I don't want to get bit." We clearly called the wrong number for help. :)

Jonathan decided we should try to scoot the snake with the pole into an open cardboard box on the floor, then we could throw it outside. I argued in opposition, thinking the snake could easily slither right out of the box. I was overruled. I jumped onto a chair, pillowcase in hand, while Jonathan used the pole to persuade the snake. At first, the snake turned around and tried to go down between the base cabinets and the refrigerator. At this point I started screaming, "NO, NO, NO, DON'T LET IT GET ON THE FLOOR!" Randy chimed in, "Put the pole in there and catch him!" Jonathan obeyed and was able to force the snake back up the cabinet and off the counter top into the box. He and Randy quickly closed it with their feet and Jonathan bravely carried the box, snake enclosed, outside. He dropped it, stepped back, didn't see any movement, approached it, kicked it, then watched the snake slither off into someone else's yard. Had Randy not been saying, "Poor snake," as it exited the box, I'm sure my husband would have had a "hoe-down" with the thing.

These past couple weeks since the incident have been uneventful. I prayed to not have nightmares about snakes and so far the only snake dream I've had was one where I had a friendly pet snake that protected our bed from other varmints. In fact, I had all but forgotten about the creature until just a few minutes ago when I heard Jonathan reading Ross' Jungle Babies book to him. When he got to the snake part he read, "I'm a baby snake. I like to slip and slide. In the grass and leaves is where I like to hide." Then I distinctly heard him add under his breath, "and in your kitchen."