Today is a beautiful day. It's the kind of day you feel like doing things and enjoying life. I haven't done much, but I've enjoyed the day. But here is the thing that's been bugging me.
Bats. I hate bats. It seems to me there are many bat lovers about, but I'm not one of them. Well, allow me to clarify. I'm fine with bats outside, but I am NOT in the LEAST okay with them in my house. In fact, I love bats outside, and they don't even freak me out if they are outside. Inside is a completely different matter.
I've lived in this house for 9 years, and I have not gotten used to the bats that invade my nights. I have prayed, bargained, pleaded for their demise, or really just for them not to come in. So far, they still visit. They aren't hanging out in the attic (we've checked), and they don't come in every night. It is probably about a total of two weeks out of the year that they make their appearance, but one night is one too many.
Two nights ago, I was feeling quite comfortable with the lack of bats thus far this year, so I was taken by surprise when I walked into my bedroom and saw one hanging on the window frame. As soon as my mind processed the blob hanging there was a bat, I ran as fast as I could hunched over and carrying a sleeping baby down the stairs. I went as quietly and quickly as possible and told my hubby in hushed tones, "There is a bat upstairs. Hanging in our window. Please. Take. Care. Of. It."
So, I went into the living room, heart pounding, with the baby to nurse him back to sleep, sure my knight would rush to my rescue. It was draft night for fantasy football. Very Important. I sat on the couch in frozen, freaking panic, and he took ten minutes to go upstairs and get rid of it. I was going crazy, telling myself I could wait until he was done, the bat wasn't going to fly away or disappear, but I felt so anxious and scared in that time.
I remember the time when we were first married. I fondly called him My Batman because he'd rescued me the night before from a bat. As I spoke the words, the window shade in our room rustled and out flew a bat. I about died. He used his trusty tennis racket, and once again, was My Batman. It was funny.
I have numerous bat stories. Once, hubby was bartending at the bar his parents own, and at midnight I awoke to see a bat hanging on the door frame. I called him, and he came home, got rid of it, and went back to work. And there was the time I was carrying my sleeping daughter upstairs, and I turned on the hall light (which I seldom do), and there was a furry creature on the floor. If I hadn't turned on the light I wouldn't have seen it, and I probably would have died of fright as I walked into its space and it flew up. Oh shudder. I can't even think about it.
Last year, we were watching a movie, and I was very absorbed in the storyline, and suddenly, out of nowhere a bat swooped down by me. I lay there so petrified, and my heart was beating so hard and fast. Hubby returned, sat down on the couch and resumed the movie. I started crying and sobbing as I came out of my frozen state.
Today I found someone who has a similar fear and panic. My youngest gets physical therapy, and his therapist and I got on the topic of bats somehow. It was humorous and comforting to exchange stories.
Recently, we had our house weatherized and insulation put into the walls. I was hoping perhaps we'd have no more bats, but the other night disproved that. Ah well.