Every morning I do the same things. A creature of habit; these things never waver. By eight o’clock, the house is cleaned, laundry is done, and the critters are fed. Granted, all habitual activities change, as this circle of life curves around.
The specific duties have changed, throughout the years. I no longer need to get uniforms done, wake the kids up, and take them to school...all done, before I ever even exit my pajammers. And yes, I was one of THOSE mothers, who got dressed (took care of me) afterwards. Of course, that depended on what kind of job that I had, at the time too. But if it was a job that required me to arrive at nine o’clock...then yes, I was in my nightgown. But I was a creature of habit back then; just as I am today. I’ve always functioned more efficiently, if I submerged myself into a set routine. If I sway from that monotony, even an ounce; my entire day is thrown off.
So as usual, I made my normal morning rounds around here. I fed the dogs, the chickens, and then made my way to Clyde. Clyde’s the donkey, by the way. After turning the hose on, I poured his sweet feed in the trough, and brushed a pine burr from his mane. Still in my open toed house slippers, I went to turn the hose off, after his water tub was full. Lord help me and my slippers.
I caught movement from beside my foot. Slithering movement. And there he was. A dern Copperhead snake. Contrary to what the experts say, they are NOT as scared of us, as we are of them. No, Sir and no, ma’am. I can most assuredly confirm that I was much more scared of him, than he was, of pajama cladded me.
He just lay there, with his ole tongue, flickering; eyeballing me. Apologies to snake lovers, but if I had been near a shovel or hoe he wouldn’t have been able to eyeball another thing...ever again. As it was, I had no way of defending myself, other than a cowardly retreat. I jumped backwards, heart racing, and high tailed it, to the house; losing one of my pink slippers by the pump. He could have it.
Needless to say, I’ve, since, strategically placed a shovel nearby. And I’ll be wearing rubber boots to feed up rom now on...my newly acquired habitual attire. Mr. Copperhead hasn’t been out there again, so I can only assume...that he doesn’t stick to a rigid routine. Apparently being a creature of habit...doesn’t necessarily apply to actual creatures. Thank God.
Y’all have a great day, and if you don’t do anything else habitual...at least, watch where you step.
