I don't like spiders and snakes ...

I'll be honest, some days it is tough being a girl.

This morning I woke up, did a bunch of reading and research, then decided it was time to take a shower.  So, I walked into the shower room to warm up the water and glanced down at the floor.  Hmmm, that is MUCH bigger than a bug.  Oh, for pity's sake - it's a dead bird.  A small sparrow ... dead ... in the cabin ... on my floor.

I walked out (without turning the shower on), sat back down and waffled back and forth between tears (fury? fear? shock? who knows!) and panic.  I could NOT figure out who was going to take care of this for me.  The stupid thing couldn't lay there until the weekend when Carol and her friends came up.  I had to be able to take showers between now and then.  I couldn't ask my friends up here to come deal with this for me. I needed to take a shower before I left the cabin.  Sigh ... so, I sat and pondered, knowing full well that I had to build up my courage to just handle it.

...and I did.

I've never really felt comfortable about dealing with creepy, crawly, ugly, dead things. 

Like the time back when Carol and I were living together.  One day I'd gone to the basement to do laundry.  We always had to pull the lint out of the lint trap in the utility sink where the washer drained.  Carol followed me down to help fold and hang clothes.  I reached my hand into the drain to grab the lint and promptly dropped everything and began screaming and screeching.  Carol, being the ever supportive sister, began screaming and screeching with me, having no idea what had just happened.  Finally we got to full-blown laughter at ourselves and I explained that I had just picked up a sopping wet, dead mouse.  That news brought more shuddering and moaning.  One of us had to deal with the mouse.  I'm sure it was me.

We have bats in the attic at the duplex (by the way, when Max moved in - Carol moved out ... same place, same rodents). 

Oh, and Max and I got a cat after he had trapped nearly 20 mice one spring.  The cat stopped them from ever entering the place again.

Back to the bats.

One afternoon I was taking a nap on the couch.  The duplex next door was being gutted and prepared for new tenants.  They had definitely stirred up the attic and whoosh - a bat came flying down the stairs and circled the living room (where I was taking a nap on the couch).  I pulled a blanket over my head and screamed for Max.  He came flying down the stairs, recognized the impending threat of a bat in what was left of his hair and stood on the steps wondering what in the world to do.  I told him to get a broom - well, he would have to walk through the living room to get the broom.  All of a sudden, my fabulous cat, Howard jumped to the top of a wing chair and flew into the air, bringing the bat down to the floor, where he promptly batted it around until it probably had a heart attack.  Max did have to collect the poor thing and get rid of it.

Long, long ago, Mom, Carol and I were sitting on the back breezeway in the parsonage in Council Bluffs.  It was a fabulous location - they had built out the space between the garage and the house, roofed it, put carpet down and glass doors on either end.  Since the weather was obviously gorgeous, we had all the doors open and were enjoying the day.

Until the moment that 5-6 garter snakes decided that the party was inside and they wanted to join us.  Carol started into the house - probably to get something to drink and saw them.  She screamed and ran back for a chair.  Mom and I both began screaming and pulled our legs up off the floor. We tried calmly discussing what we might do to rid the room of the snakes.  None of us could come up with anything that made any sense.  (we weren't in our right minds, I promise)

Fortunately, it was nearly lunch time.  Dad walked home from the church, expecting lunch to be ready.  He always walked in the back door, but this time he was surprised to find all the women in his family huddled up on chairs, nailed in place by several garter snakes.  After a few snide remarks, he picked them all up, took them back out to the grass, dropped them off and asked for his lunch.  We were all more than willing to handle it.

So, no, I'm not what you might call 'brave' when it comes to things that slither or skitter or fly around me.  I know that they're God's creatures and I'm glad that He enjoyed creating them.  I also know that as humans we have chosen to live among the animals of His creation.  Sometimes I just wish that they weren't in such close proximity.

If I were a boy - would all of this be easier?