On Saturday, I was all set and ready for the Rapture. Now that it's Monday and I'm still here, I'm a little disappointed. Not because I thought that I, personally, would get Raptured (we all know that Jesus wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole) but because I thought that at least a FEW other people would, at the very least cutting down the line at Wal-Mart or making it easier to find an unoccupied elliptical machine at the gym. Alas, no go. This afternoon I stood in line for ten minutes to buy a damn avocado, and my kids are still here (they may be hellions, but I'm pretty sure they could still get into Heaven at this point.) I think this solidifies the "Our World Didn't End on Saturday" theory I formulated yesterday. *sigh* What a shame.
In other news, leading up to the Fake Rapture, I had snake drama last week. On Thursday, EB came to pick up her son at my house, only to discover a large serpent on my porch. Not only did he slither up in front of her from the bushes, but he then proceeded to snuggle up on my doorstep. She called me, frantic, telling me "DON'T OPEN THE DOOR." (For the record, if I had been the one making the phone call, it would have gone more like this: "Code RED, Code RED! Don't OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR or ALL HELL IS GONNA BREAK LOOSE when the SATAN SNAKE falls INTO YOUR GODDAMN HOUSE." But EB doesn't have quite the penchant for crude language that I do (though she's seemingly quite tolerant of snakes). Of course, I lost my mind and flung the window open, hoping that the snake wasn't intelligent enough to crawl up the side of the house and loosen the screen from the frame, before entering the kitchen and battling me to the death. We called B and he left work to come home and slay the beast, while we watched it to make sure it stayed nearby (for the record, I stayed locked in the house with a shovel JUST IN CASE-- EB, on the other hand, followed it around the porch and landscaping, photographing its creepy little snake self and commenting on its girth. Her bravery astounds me.) B came home, it attacked (no joke) and he chopped its evil snake head off with my shovel. Praise (no show) Jesus.
Life, otherwise, is pretty standard. Sutt still wants to marry me. (Hey, I AM pretty awesome. I can't say that I blame him.) Belly is obsessed with wearing her hair in a side ponytail (hello, 1980's-- I can't say I'm all that thrilled to see you again). B and some other guys formed a new band (*sigh*). And me....well, I'm just Happy To Be Here (thanks, Robert S).
It's May. It's warm. I'm going to Tennessee next month to see my Mama and my brother and my sis and (maybe, for the first time in several years) my grandma. Things are okay. I have another week and a half to be 33. I have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and work winds up for the summer on Friday. I'll be on vacation (sans kids!) during my birthday.
At this moment, things are.....good.