The Begining and the Snake

I was told that I needed to grow up.
Of course it seems rather immature to start a blog that will chronicle my journey, but again, that's why I need to grow up.
I would be the first to admit that I do act like a teenager with some adult responsibilities and unfortunately I tend to push the majority onto my wife. That's part of the deal that has to change.
So, I'm going to grow up because I simply need to, and that I love my wife.
However, I'm turning 38 later this month and I have very little maturity to account for myself, so it's going to be an uphill battle.
I believe I can change and I have faith that I will change.
Thus, I begin.
One of the things I tend to do is put things off. Why do something today when you can do it tomorrow? Right?
Except for me that length of time grows into weeks and even months.
Before I mowed the yard on Tuesday evening (which is a feat unto itself, because the grass tends to get very thick) I tackled the No. 2 raised garden bed that my wife had asked me a number of times to do. Just gut the grass down so that she can begin working in it.
After making the initial sweep, I went back to spots that I didn't get very well the first time around.
Then I saw it.
I saw the fricking snake.
Normally, after I had gotten over my initial gag factor, I would have ran from the yard.
This time I hovered over it to see what kind of snake it was... Confirmed, it was a snake.
To me there are two kinds of snakes: Live ones and dead ones.
This one seemed to be hanging on the brink to being near dead after I accidently hit it with the weedwhacker.
It was brown with a light to white underside and it was still moving. The largest part of its body was no bigger than the diameter of a dime. So, it wasn't a big snake by any stretch of the imagination. Except in mine, because it's a fricking snake.
I went to the garage to get a shovel. I tried to pound the snake, but I think I hit the planks that line the No. 2 garden about as many times as I hit the snake.
It stopped twitching, but my body would convulse every once and a while.
I told the wife about the snake and when she came out later to actually check on me and let the dogs out, I pointed out where the snake was.
Wife: "That's a copperhead."
Me: "Really?"
Wife: "Yeah."
Me: "But it was a small one."
Wife: "The smallest tends to be the ones that are the most venomous."
I've read that idea is a bit of myth, but I'm not going to test that theory. Besides the wife has yet to steer me wrong on those sort of things.
I really detest snakes.
There's something ancient or primeval about them. Perhaps, I'm just jealous that they appear to have more wisdom than I do.
Nah.
They're fricking snakes.
Before I mow the yard next week I got to either sharpen the lawnmower blade or change it out. That will be a first for me.