On Friday, I’m hoping to finish the story by saying “but after all those horrible and bizarre things that happened those first few days, my week got a LOT better.”

Monday: Just as I’m getting out of bed, seconds after putting on some clothes (I should note that I sleep naked—it’s not a sexy thing, it’s more that I twist and turn enough in my sleep that I’d strangle myself otherwise), I’m standing between the bed and the huge, ground-level window of my bedroom and hear loud, unintelligible whispering coming from outside. When I finally get enough courage to move, I peek out the window and see a cop, circling the court in his cruiser, whispering into his bullhorn. What. the. fuck. Later that day, I found this. Even later, I bought a couch and before the day was out, held my screaming brother down while I sprayed gravel out of his bloody knee with the kitchen sink nozzle hose thing.

Tuesday: So, yeah. The snake thing. It was my own fault entirely, and I actually feel really guilty. Sarah brought her two ball pythons and leopard gecko over to my apartment because she can’t keep reptiles at hers. I’ve handled and fed both snakes before, and had no qualms about reaching into Kyle’s terrarium to reset the water dish he spilled. I must have moved too fast, though—overconfident—because he set those needle fangs right into my pinkie. Kyle has never bitten anyone before, and it’s because of this that I feel guilty. It’s not like I provoked him or anything, but I’m sorry it happened and I feel a little betrayed by a snake I trusted. I haven’t told Sarah, and I don’t think I will. There’s no reason for us both to feel guilty and/or betrayed, and I know things between me and the snake will be back to normal in a few days. All told, I’m kind of glad it happened. My first snake bite. =)