When Karen and I first got married, we lived in an older home.
Need I remind you about the cat in the sink incident?
That house had bones — but it also had about a million issues.

One afternoon, I heard Karen yelling from outside like we were under siege.
Turns out, it was just time for one of my husbandly duties: snake removal.

I sprinted out to the carport, ready for battle...
only to find a garter snake about seven inches long and the diameter of a pencil.
It was so small, I felt bad removing it from this mortal coil.

So, I grabbed a shovel, scooped him (or her — I’m not a snake expert) onto it, and reassured Karen I would relocate the beast to the farthest outskirts of the yard.
She reminded me that according to Bill Engvall — and, apparently, the Bible — snakes are the devil.
But still, I let it live.
Karen was happy. The snake was probably happy.
Mission accomplished.

Or so I thought.

Fast forward to the next morning.
I woke up early because I had to open the store.
Karen was still asleep. I showered, got dressed, and made my way toward the kitchen for my daily breakfast of champions — a Sun Drop and a honey bun.

As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, there it was:
That same snake.
Just lying there on the floor, slithering for it's life trying to get away.
Looking up at me like, “Hey Maury, just thought I’d swing by and say thanks for sparing me yesterday.”

I froze.
I thought, Why... why did you have to come inside the house?
Sparing your life was one thing, but this?
You crossed a line. You done messed up.

So, I did what I had to do.
(And no, I did not feel guilty this time.)

I decided this was a need-to-know basis situation —
and Karen did not need to know.

Years later, someone was telling their own snake story and Karen bragged about how brave I was that day.
For some reason, she had an epiphany and turned to look at me. Then she asked, “What if it came back? What if it tried to get in the house?”

I hesitated and said with my charming laugh, “Funny you should mention that.”

That’s when I finally told her the rest of the story.

“THERE WAS A SNAKE IN OUR KITCHEN?!”

I’m sure you heard her wherever you were that day.
Let’s just say she wasn’t as impressed after that.

Stay frosty, friends.
You never know what’s lurking around the corner.

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There's a Snake in My Boot, I Mean Kitchen!