By the time I realized what was underfoot, it was too late. Mid stride, every muscle in my core and legs tensed tight with the adrenaline sudden fear produces, and for the duration of—what she likely and correctly perceived as the briefest instant—a lifetime, I froze, left foot wavering unsure in the air. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my next step could’ve been my last. Or hers. I realize it now: I’m really overly dramatic.

My own Captain Smith course correction fortunately met with better success. I stepped a few inches in front of an all black snake with yellow markings on the underside of its face. “Oh, Amy, do you see that?”

She did. It recoiled, drew tight to strike. I was too close and stepped back slowly. Amy extended her hand to pick the damn thing up and it retreated down a snake hole. We considered her flip flops and the exposed soft skin of her feet. We felt lucky. We wondered whether it was poisonous. It was. She asked whether I would suck out the venom. I said I had my pocket knife and would open a small incision near the bite through which to suck the poisonous venom from her bloodstream* because I am a wilderness man with full, hearty beard.

This all occurred about midway through a busy day full of aimless adventure Amy and I had (not) planned. We had decided to meet up at ten in the morning, which admittedly isn’t gonna help me see a farmer’s sunrise by any stretch, but it’s still early enough that my cinema schedule conflicts. Pity me.

Worse yet, I couldn’t fall asleep the night before. Every few months or so for a night or two, my bed feels more like quicksand than a cloud. It’s a strange occurrence, all of a sudden finding my bed so uncomfortable, and for whatever reason, when I feel like that, there’s just no way for me to fall asleep in my bed. I twist and turn in bed as though I’ve had about five bourbon and cokes and some pretty girl has roped me onto the dance floor.

After an hour or so of futilely trying to fall asleep in bed, I decided to go out to my car, get my sleeping bag, and sleep on the floor of my room. I fell asleep quickly, but my alarm came too soon, and I hadn’t left myself enough time for hitting snooze.

There could be a moral about getting out of bed being the first step towards success, but I don’t think that’s exactly something with which ninety-nine percent of people struggle. But I made it to Poseyville on time and spent a good six hours or so doing what I normally spend my time doing by myself with someone—someone with whom I spent the entire six hours talking about this and that. It was refreshing.

We drove to a state fish and wildlife area, wandered a state nature preserve (Twin Swamps was where we found the snake on a path), saw three rivers, stumbled upon the site of a recent homicide, explored utopia, looked for old churches, and I’m still leaving things out.

Pretty simply, this is why I’m thankful for the friends with whom I’ve been smart enough to surround myself. We all have wheels and open hearts ready for easy adventures and mouths full of words and ears like baskets.

Everything anyone is willing to share with me is my harvest, my bounty. This is how I nourish myself.

*(This is apparently a terrible idea. So don’t do it. darlingdisasters.com remains your one stop shop for first aid information.)