Laura at AoSHQ presents a good argument for hiring a competent building inspector before you buy a house.
Snakes in a cellar. Motherf... never mind that.
Fortunately, the snakes the new homeowners found were garter snakes. But I am now reminded of an old joke I read in the back pages of my brother's "Boy's Life" magazines...
"A snake snapped at me!"
"Snakes don't snap! They coil and strike!"
"This one was a garter snake!"
The sad part of that was, by the time I read this, almost nobody was wearing garters to hold up their stockings. This was the age of pany hose... seamless, built-in panties, sold in plastic eggs, and perfect under a miniskirt. What the heck is a garter, and why would it snap? We were the wrong generation to understand this.. until Fredericks of Hollywood -- and then, later, Victoria's Secret -- brought back the exotic and uncomfortable undies that they used to wear in Grandma's day so they could look sophisticated but afterward got smart and ditched to let it all hang out for glamor
Nope. no garters showing on her. nothing to snap at her.
except some fella's camera.
So garters were beyond my ken until I was much older. But we had plenty of garter snakes.
Which is where I started.
Snakes.
I don't really understand the problem they have, with a colony of snakes in the cellar. Unless they are intending to be our Insect Overlords, and they don't want the young they're stashing down there to get et before conquest.
No comments:
Post a Comment