one teensy problem

I will post pictures or video or something of the new house soon.

For the most part, I am in love with this place. Big backyard, everybody's bedroom on the same level, finished laundry room, mature trees, space for dancing in the basement - all things I didn't even know I loved until I didn't have it. But there is always something - always some little hook - that isn't quite right, and I discovered it today.

I borrowed a mower, so I could tackle the 4-inches of grass that were threatening to engulf the house. About ten minutes into it, my dream home became less dreamy.

Toads.

The first two didn't bother me - they were small, and crouched down pretty low to avoid being hit on the second pass with the mower. But after the 12th one, I just screamed. Screamed so loud that Punk and Kooka came running over to see if I was OK.

It was like a plague.

These things were all over the place - big ones - trying to crawl back under the mower - which I was now terrified to move - lest we all be sprayed with copious amounts of amphibian guts.

There are TWO gianormous problems with toads.

ONE: The only things that eat them are owls - which are in short supply around here, SNAKES - which I can do without thanks, and other, bigger toads. I can't win this one. No toads means there must be snakes - or giant toads in the yard. But the other option is having the little ones try to burrow into my keens as I mow. Neither is acceptable to me.

TWO: Even if the mower did manage to quietly and cleanly obliterate the disgusting little gnomes, toads happen to be Punk's very most absolute favorite animal on the planet. So there is a fair amount of guilt associated with this issue. I guess for me it would be the equivalent of having Punk come in after a day of yardwork and say "Hey mom, you might not wanna go outside for a while. I think I accidentally plowed over half-a-dozen bottlenosed dolphins out there." The trauma would be more than I could take.
So what am I supposed to do? If I call Punk to get them out of my way, he goes into rescue mode immediately. As I type - there are SIX of them housed in his bedroom. SIX!
At the going rate for crickets - we are now into $350 a year to feed these fricking things! FEED THEM!!! My GOD - why didn't the mower just do it's job?!

Eventually, the professor took pity on me, and stopped moving furniture long enough to finish the backyard.

I am seriously considering buying an owl.