Snakes

Resident Dealbreakers

Before we were married, Adam and I were hiking when he hurled his usually lumbering 275 lb body toward me while letting out a squeal to warn me of impending doom. Or a snake, and my husband’s outsized fear of snakes. A four-inch long, pinky-finger-width sized (i.e. tiny) snake sat sunning himself on a rock in our path. As we sidled past him, the little guy gave no indication that he was offended by our presence and I’m pretty sure he didn’t have an aggressive bone in his body.

Fast forward to today’s final walk-through prior to our farm purchase. Nestled smack dab in the middle of the living room was a 5 foot snakeskin, the owner nowhere to be found, but looking at the terror in my husband’s eyes, you would have thought that snake slithered over his foot and molted right in front of us.

And just as quickly as the blood rushed from his face, Adam gulped, regained his composure and we were off to the races buying a farm. Now, all the papers are signed and I can only imagine the schemes my husband is plotting to get rid of those snakes.