Saturday, July 19, 2008
Bats in the Belfry...
Theoretically speaking, if one was to walk into the storage room, through the door opening, over to the extra fridge to grab a bottle of water, so she could go outside and mow grass, and when she turned around to step back through the door opening, she saw a big, brown leaf, a leaf that had obviously blown in from the garage, she would proceed to walk over and pick it up.

Then at some point, because there is indeed a God in the heavens, she might pause for just a moment, and notice that said big, brown leaf had nodules on it, little bumps at the corners, and it was a bit raised up and puffy looking. She would stop dead in her tracks, don't you think, take a long, hard look and realize that without her glasses, which were upstairs, she could not know for certain, but the chances were 99% that said leaf was not a leaf at all, but a bat. A bat that was not there seconds ago.

Which means that if it was not a leaf, but rather a bat, then it was not a dead bat, which is really still not an acceptable type of bat to have in one's basement storage room, but still 100% better than an alive bat. Then she'd likely realize she was trapped in that room, with no phone, no way of getting out without walking past the very alive bat, taking a big chance that the minute she stepped over it, it would swoop up and fly up the leg of her shorts.

Theoretically speaking, one would not choose that as a way to depart this earth, having dropped dead from an over-active heart when the bat flew up the leg of one's shorts.

One would realize at that moment exactly what 'cold, clammy' felt like, as she broke out in a cold sweat, her heart racing, the hair on her arms standing straight up. Then she'd summon every ounce of courage she had and walk to the door opening, step over the bat and scurry up the stairs, phone her husband and tell him he needed to come right that instant to capture the bat and remove it to the outdoors.

When he did that exact thing, she would, theoretically, tell him why he was once again her hero. She'd stand in amazement as he dropped a clear container over the bat, and her eyes would bug straight out of her head as the alive bat stretched its wings all the while making little squeaky noises, and DH continued to hold it in his hands, which were protected by a file folder, but still she sure wouldn't have been able to do that, and he didn't scream or hesitate but just walked right outside and set the alive bat free, and if he was the least bit afraid himself he sure never showed it. And she'd be just a wee bit scared to go downstairs for the next twenty years or several months, not sure which yet. Theoretically speaking of course.


  posted at 5:30 PM

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