Right before M. and I left on the road trip that culminated in my rattlesnake bite and hospital stay
, I was having trouble with a blockage in the bathroom lavatory.
I did not think that I could get my large plumber's "snake" down through the waste pipe behind the wall, and I thought of going to the hardware store and picking up a
smaller one. But we were busy packing, and so I left the problem for later.
And then, five days later, came the bite from a "baby" rattlesnake and, minutes later, an encounter with a larger one who acted like a proper rattlesnake. In other words, the second one gave us a warning buzz so that we could avoid it.
Home again and still on crutches, I called Cory the plumber. He roared up the driveway in his big diesel van the following morning.
Of course I had to explain the crutches. A few minutes later, he had disassembled the drain and was carrying his electric plumber's snake up from the van.
"I've had about enough of this snake motif," I said.
"All right," he replied, "we'll call it an auger."
Little snake and big snake, metaphorical. Little snake and big snake, literal.
Sometimes the only god worth worshiping is the god of irony.
There is a complicated message here about the "poison path
," I think, but I am still thinking about it.