Once or twice a year our daycare shuts down, leaving me scrambling for a place to store my kids while I go make money to pay for daycare. For the last two years, this has meant a week-long vacation for the kids with their grandparents, and equally a week-long stay-cation for Husband and I at home without the kids.
This small window of having no children in the house allows me the precious joy of getting myself ready for work without simultaneously questioning how long it can possibly take a 6 year old to find socks, or how a 3 year old is able to disassemble an entire pantry in under 4 minutes.
This week also gives Husband and I a rare opportunity to take an evening and go rock climbing.
Last year, we made it up twice despite the rain, thunder and lightening, and most of all, the rattlesnake.
It’s safe to say that I may have been just a little bit apprehensive about reliving that encounter. And so I did what I should never be allowed to do, and I looked up information about rattlesnake bites.
Do not do this. Never do this.
Snake bites are terrible things. Looking at pictures of snake bites is a terrible idea. Reading about what can happen when a snake bites you is a terrible idea. Me doing both of these things before heading out into snakeland was the worst fucking idea.
And so I got a big stick.
I figured that if I took a walking stick with me, I could sweep it around in front of me if there was tall grass, and bang it on rocks before stepping on them to scare away anything that may otherwise be inclined to lash out from it’s hiding place and impale me with it’s hate fangs.
My stick plan worked. I banged along as I walked and felt better as the day went on. No danger noodles dared show themselves while I had my stick.
I even found having a solid walking stick was helpful in balancing as we navigated the small boulders that littered the pathways as we got closer to our climbs.
About 30 minutes into our trek we met someone clambering down the path towards us. The man watched me approaching for a moment as I made my way slowly up the path. As he passed Husband, he nodded hi and asked him if I was blind.
|Me and my stick|
Blind? I’m climbing over waist high boulders, do I look fucking blind?
Me and my anti-snake stick, along with banging every rock before I stepped on it, created what was evidently a very good imitation of someone who couldn’t see shit.
And while I know that I no longer have 20/20 vision, I can assure you if I was ever going to be blind, the last place in the fucking world I would be is somewhere that would require a snake stick in the first place.