I lay awake in bed last night thinking about today's blog. I thought I might write about the adorable little tree frog we found. I lay there thinking about what I would write. I then began to read my book. For a while now lots of lady's that I know have been telling me that I have to read "Outlander", and warned me that I would not be able to put it down. I began reading Outlander, and as predicted I have become addicted. So it was pretty late last night when my eyes began to droop. I turned out the light. I had only just turned out the light, when my bladder yelled at me. I stood up, turned the light back on, and then I heard the strangest noise. It sounded like it came from the wall. It was a flapping noise, then I looked up. It was a frigging bat (I did not think "frigging", I thought another word that starts with "F", but is decidedly unfamily oriented.). I then jumped in bed, pulled the covers over my head, and started punching my sleeping husband and screaming.
My husband has been working a lot lately. People are dying left and right, and they all choose to die early in the mornings for some reason (just a little black funeral director humour for you). My poor exhausted husband had been in a deep sleep just before my screaming and punching woke him. I think I might have been screaming "bat", but there is a really good chance I was screaming gibberish. During this time, that stupid bat is still circling around my room, like something from an Alfred Hitchcock movie. At this point my husband who is not great in a crisis situation to begin with jumps out of the bed all disoriented, when he realizes what I have been screaming about. He then begins to shout obscenities.
All the while my husband is spazing out, I am shouting things at him from under my covers. THANK GOD I had pulled the covers over my head, because it was shortly after that the bat landed on my face. This set Christopher over the edge (I did not much care for it myself). He is still at this point really disoriented and he starts shouting "It's on your face, it's on your face!" I know it's on my face, I can see it's silhouette through my quilt. So today I can see that it would have been really funny. It was not unlike the scene in Christmas Vacation where Chevy Chase is running around with the squirrel on his back. So I have a bat on my face, and a husband who is acting like he might be on drugs (for the record he's not on drugs... well I don't think). I am waiting for my husband in his panic to hit me in the face with a tennis racket in an effort to kill that bat. I am waiting for it to come, and yet powerless to stop it, it is at that point that I begin to pray. I'm not sure if I was praying that bat wouldn't eat my face, or that my husband wouldn't rearrange my face.
I think I should at this point in the story share with you that my husband is quite tall. At 6 feet 4 inches, he is not all that far from the top of the ceiling where our unwanted guest is flapping around. At some point the bat flew off my face. Christopher started yelling "Where did it go?" At that point I pulled my head out from underneath the covers, only to discover that apparently the bat that was sitting on my face had pooped on my quilt, and that said poop was now on my face. I decided to brave the bat attack and scrub my face until there was no skin left. When I was satisfactorily disinfected, I ran like they do in horror films back into my room. I then shoved my husband with all my strength out of our room and shut the door. "What if the bat is still in our room?" he asked through the closed door. ""You'll know because of my frantic screaming! Now catch that frigging bat!" (I didn't say frigging. For that matter I said quite a bit of that bad "F" word that night).
I sat bolt upright in my room, listening for the "caught it!" I felt like if I just sat there bolt upright, it might give me super human hearing. There was profuse swearing. Christopher shouted words that I did not even know existed, and strung together other words that I did know even went together. After what seemed like hours, my husband staggered into our bedroom. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and looked like he had just been in a war. "I caught it, and you'll be happy to know I released it outside!" He then fell into the bed, and fell instantly asleep. I was too wired. I picked up my book again, listing the whole time for more bat attacks.
I don't know how those stupid bats are getting into the house, but by the God, I will (what that really means is that Christopher will, because one bat sitting on my face is good enough for a life time). It turns out that bats are great outside, they eat thousands of mosquitos. In the house... not so awesome!