Fall lasts for about a day in Texas.
We go from, this-metal-lawn-chair-is-searing-my-ass -- to watching icy pickup crashes on LBJ Freeway -- and then back to butt-blistering heat -- in the span of, I dunno, about two months. Give or take.
So when Charlotte decided we should do our fall landscaping on the day fall actually arrived, I jumped at the chance.
Which is saying something, because those of you who know me, know I DON'T JUMP.
Since Linda and Debbie had been over earlier to decorate the back deck, I knew I was in for some low-impact landscaping. Move a plant here. Put these mums there. Done in time to see TCU put another one in the win column. Easy deal.
UNTIL THE SNAKE TRIED TO KILL ME.
I was moving a couple of potted plants to the front porch. All I had to do was pull out the lantana - and plop in the plant that looked pretty in that Southern Living story about fall landscaping.
Pull one out. Put one in (insert mildly inappropriate joke HERE). Something even I couldn't screw up. I mean, c'mon, there were no ladders involved.
So I reached down to pull out the plant from the container and there it is - a coiled snake.
This wasn't just any snake. Noooo, this was a brown, copperhead-looking snake.
I dropped the pot and backed up faster than Indiana Jones in that temple scene.
Snake B.C. (before chopping)
The only problem was I didn't have my freakin' BULLWHIP. Since they don't allow you to shoot firearms in Collywood I had to resort to other measures to defend my home.
You guessed it.
I went to the garage. Got my hoe. And chopped it into about a dozen bite-sized pieces. But of course, by the time I had hoe in hand (insert other mildly inappropriate joke Here) I was pretty jazzed up. Think Jack Nicholson in The Shinning.
You would've thought I was digging an irrigation ditch with my hoe. I CHOPPED and Chopped and chopped until I got tired of chopping. Poor snake probably woke up in Heaven before he realized he was dead.
This of course provided me with the opportunity all guys secretly L O V E. I got to show Charlotte my snake (insert final, mildly inappropriate joke Here).
Charlotte didn't quite give me a, "My Hero," but I was proud of myself. By the time she made it to the front yard, I had stopped squealing like a four-year-old girl. I mean, a guy's got to have some dignity.