I got my darling husband to confess.
When we first moved in, there was a rat snake in the big tree in the front yard.
Bob jiggled the branch with a broom and the snake slithered away.
Oh. My. God.
A snake.
In a tree.
That’s much, much, much worse than a snake on the ground.
I’m reworking that old 80’s song in my head.
“It’s raining snakes…”
If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and have a little heart attack now.