There are two loud screams as we both duck to the ground. The evil creature circles the living room at no less than 45 mph (I never exaggerate). I dodge into the bedroom, peering through a crack in the door. Mike jousts the air with a dustpan. He hits the bat; it's still flying. Now he holds the dustpan in the air. The bat hits it during its maddening loop around the room. It's still flying... but slower. Mike fans the air with the dustpan weapon. The bat pummels to the ground, looking like a wad of wet tissue paper--lifeless and rabid, lying on my floor.
Mike, a.k.a. my hero, picks up the beast with the edges of two newspapers and tosses it in the outside garbage can. I'm repulsed but I laugh. Another one bites the dust.
Perhaps we need to try Dwight's garbage bag approach next time.
Hibernation is almost over. Scratching sounds in our ceiling will commence.
So who wants to come visit?
6 comments:
Wow, you guys! You never have a dull moment.
We sure are enjoying your blogging and it looks like you've created a monster, but what a fun way to stay in touch with all the families. We love it!!
Uncle Roger called tonight and told me to check this out. I couldn't believe what I saw. It makes me nervous just thinking about it. Are you going to "debat" your attic now?
I hope I can sleep now. It is 2:25 now, so I shall try.
Love, Grandma.
Try checking my account out to see if what I blogged came through.
Hello Traci,
I think I might have it fixed now.
Please try to connect to my account and see if I got through.
I became irritated because I couldn't "fix" it.
This is calling forth childhood flashbacks. I was born in a house that had bats. I have VIVID memories of them circling the living room, my dad pulling the door knob off my bedroom door in an attempt to keep the bat out of my room, the neighbor coming over with a tennis raquet, and my perpetual nightmare of me going in the basement and finding a nest of bats underneath a bedspread. Very, very, very scary.
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