Yeah, not exactly something that I want to say more than once a lifetime.
I had just put the girls down for a nap. I came downstairs, got the clean sheets out of the dryer and walked into our bedroom to put them on. As I came around to my side of the bed (of course it would be on my side) I looked down.....and started screaming.
The next thing I know, I'm standing on the bed hyperventilating while my husband pounds down the steps to find out what appendage I have severed because that is the only thing that could've caused a scream that long and loud.
I don't know how I got on top of the bed. And I don't recall the exact conversation we had while he was standing in the door (when he saw me standing on the bed, he didn't come very far into the room), but it was something like this:
Him: What's wrong?!
Me: THERE'S A SNAKE!
Me: A SNAKE!!!!!
Me: On the floor BESIDE THE BED!
Him: I'll be right back.
Me: NO! I'm coming with you!!!
Him: You stay here and watch it in case it moves.
(I hear some noise in the kitchen and then he's back with....tupperware.
As he heads for the snake, I yell...)
Me: WAIT! Get my camera!
Me: I want to take pictures.
Him: Why don't you wait til I trap it first.
Me: Okay, that's probably a better idea.
If you compare the size of the snake to hubby's hand on the tupperware, this obviously wasn't of the boa constrictor variety. But still....IT WAS IN MY BEDROOM.
We debated on whether to kill it or not. Killing it in the bedroom (on our new, post-flood, wood floors as hubby pointed out) seemed kind of gross, so he managed to scoot the thing out the sliders and in to the yard. So the beast lives. For now at least.
Since the incident, I've managed to scare the hell out of myself on at least two more occasions. One turned out to be just a stretchy, black headband that was under the bed and the second one was a pair of black stretchy pants that I left pooled on the floor of the walk-in closet.
I'm not sure if I'll ever fully recover....