A couple of nights ago I went to bed early and was sleeping peacefully, when Adrian came barging in. He’d been downstairs watching a movie. “There’s a bat in the house!” he exclaimed. After I recovered from being jolted awake, I was suddenly thrust into terror. A bat!!! In the house??? How? I reacted quickly…by hiding under the covers. Adrian came back in the room asking for the nets I’d bought the kids for pond dipping. He thought he could try to catch it. I stayed under the covers. “Now it’s upstairs!!” he reported, helpfully. I was royally freaking out at that point. What if it finds it’s way into our room? I got up and quickly shut the door and then returned to my post under the blankets. What if Adrian doesn’t catch it?? I’d have to deal with the thing the next day. “I’m gonna open the door and see if it’ll fly out!” he called. Oh God. Please fly out. Please fly out. “Yup. It flew out”, he said.
Sigh. Relief. But then I couldn’t sleep. I kept imagining more bats. No. There couldn’t be anymore, right? Even though we didn’t know how the one bat got inside in the first place. An hour later I finally eased myself back to sleep. The next morning I was telling my friend, L, about it and she nicely informed me that her aunt once had a bat infestation in her house. Apparently, they were all in her attic. Great! Now when I walk into a room (especially in the basement) I can’t help looking up to the ceiling for a bat that may or may not be there. Oh yeah. I’m getting Adrian to look in the attic this weekend.