Snakes On My Face

I'm going to be on an episode of House.

Once the medical crew treating me realizes I don't just have a fever - but instead have a serious life-threatening medical condition brought on by something mysterious yet household-y that can only be solved by a guy with a limp, a sassy attitude, and a crew of misfits.

No, I'm not sick with something jungle-y but I expect to be within the week due to an alarming number of animals and insects and possibly fish that have taken up residence in my house.

How did they all get there you ask? I'll give you the same answer I got this morning while I screamed in terror, "WHY ARE THERE SEVEN MOTHS FLYING AROUND ME WHILE I'M TRYING TO SHOWER?!"

"Five letters!"

"What?"

"Five letters!"

"I can't hear you!"

"Forget it."

"What? Gah! One just flew INTO MY HAIR! Is it still in my hair??? GET IT OUT OF MY HAIR!"

Several minutes and re-washing of hair later just to make sure there were no moths in there:

"Why is the bathroom a moth sanctuary?"

"Five letters."

"James."

"Bingo."

"Bingo?"

"No, it's James, I just meant - Bingo you're right, it's James."

"Bongo."

"No - bingo."

"Yeah I know, Bongo is what you say after Bingo. I was just finishing it."

"Bingo Bongo?"

"Bingo."

". . . "

"Do it."

"No."

"Say it."

"No."

"Bongo."

"There you said it."

"Yeah but you were supposed to, and now I just feel dirty."


Anyway, I leave the window open for James so he can climb in and out at will thus making him the happiest cat alive, and me the happiest cat owner alive. Because if you've ever heard a cat wail in boredom and agony of said boredom you know that it's just as powerful as a new mom hearing a baby cry in the grocery store and then leaking through her new tank top. It's HEART-WRENCHING.

Buuuuuut, because I leave the window open the neighborhood militia has taken it upon themselves to move on in and dominate.

I kill at least four spiders before breakfast, several more before I go to the bathroom - which, as I mentioned before is the new moth habitat - and on top of that dead, and/or half mutilated birds and mice are often wriggling around my living room floor, office floor, computer desk, kitchen counter, and my recent favorite - the couch.

And then I went to throw the trash away and this was trying to slither into the house:




Not on my watch!

No, instead of freaking out girlish-ly and screaming 'Snaaaaake!', I stood my ground, kicked out at the air above it and screamed:

"Shaaaaaaark!"

Much better.

Shark? That's just confusing and disorienting. There is clearly not a shark on my patio, and maybe I was thinking that I would throw it off by calling out the wrong thing and the snake would look around and say, "What? A shark? WHERE!" and then flee for his life into the bushes and someone else's yard where he belongs.

But it didn't work. And really I just could not figure out what the word for snake was and I just kept repeating 'Shark' over and over in my head, complete with fin-images even though I knew I wasn't looking at a shark. Is this a sign of some sort of degenerative illness? Mixing up scary animal names? Because if so then the spiders already got me and Dr. House will need to know this.

I snapped out of it and caught my breath and instead of calling out the right thing I said:

"Is the dog in the house?"

"What?"

"Is the dog in the house?" (Because clearly I think the dog will die if it sees a snake.)

"Can you stop shouting at me from the other room?"

And because this is an insane request due to the amount of life-threatening things I'm trying to deal with right now I just open my eyes real wide, connect big-eyed-serious-eye-contact and point to the dreaded shark-snake.

"Oh."

"He's not inside." (I like to point out the obvious in scary situations so that no one else freaks out)

"Ok."

"Look how he's right next to the doormat." (See, there's nothing to fear.)

"Uh huh."

"And wrapped around the chair." (This is normal. Sometimes I wrap around the chair. Do not be frightened.)

"Great."

"Do you think he'll kill me?"

"Probably not."

"Do you think he'll crawl on my face? I do not want a snake on my face."

"No, I don't think he'll crawl on your face."

"WHERE'S HE GOING?" I scream because he's suddenly slithering toward the corner of the house and disappearing into the wall like some sort of weird disappearing-into-brick-walls-Harry-Potter-platform-train-catching snake. Also I scream this as if I'm going to get an actual answer: Oh don't worry Amy, he's just going to check on his pound cake and make sure it hasn't fallen yet. To which I would reply: Pound cake doesn't fall. WHERE'S HE REALLY GOING?




Again, I love my cat. I have to keep telling myself that because for now it's worth the wild animal/insect infestation, but pretty soon it won't be. Pretty soon the window is getting shut and James is just going to have to learn to take a set of keys with him. Because I will not stand for this shit.