It may have been slithering away, but I saw it and captured it on film.

No one can tell me the danger is not real. The imminent threat. The ever-present threat. In places we least expect it. Not just in the toilet. Nor just in the Maytag dryer vent. But now also, apparently, in the river. (You might have thought that was the most logical place of the aforementioned three, yet even though Joe warned me they like still water, and the Guadalupe is anything but a rapids near us, I had thought that my SUP boarding on our San Y’Bon was a refuge.) From the looks of this video, it may have been a rattlesnake I spotted, which can indeed swim–and bite–underwater. It also might have been a non-venomous Diamond-Backed Water Snake. But let’s ask ourselves the obvious question: do we really care if it’s venomous, non-venomous, or even filled with raspberry jelly?

It’s still a snake.

Frick.

There is no refuge.

There is no place to run, hide, or even sit, without fear of this ancient foe, whose head we apparently are divinely authorized to crush, yet which strikes at our heels mercilessly. Whether our heels are dry or wet, whether they are in motion or stationary. Astride American Standard porcelain.

And now, adding to this summer scourge: scorpions.

No, I tell you.

No.