Last night I had been out with my girls and the rest of the Bruce female relatives enjoying dinner and the Women's Conference. After the event was over, I returned home, opened my garage door and pulled in. I grabbed my purse, opened my door, exited, took a step backwards to check the back seat and that's when I screeched. EEEEEEK! Only two inches from my foot was a SNAKE. I leaped from that spot in the garage to the step into the house in just a couple steps, alerting my Keri and Michelle of the impending danger.
Upon closer inspection (I hope you have a visual of three adult women slowly walking along the side of the car to see if the snake was moving), we discovered that the said snake was indeed... dead. Evidently I had run over the slippery little thing when I pulled out of the garage some five hours earlier. How did the thing get in my garage? Did he not know that at least half the people in my family have an extreme dislike for snakes? Oh, and the snake was only about a foot long, but a snake nonetheless.
Thanks to Michelle for providing the picture. She is always so prepared.