Bats in the Belfry

There is this charming event we do each year to get things going at our little place in Maine.

I call it OPENING THE FRIGGING COTTAGE.

First, you simply pray the key still works. (note to self - remember to actually take it)

Then, there is the plumbing.  Got water pressure?  And is the hot-water heater working?

You have just driven 10 hours with one whining wife and two whining cats. Your patience is not at its best.

Happily, it usually goes OK.  Some years ago not quite so OK. A bat zipped in.  I'm not quite sure I have ever seen a human being move faster.  My Sainted wife had a sheet over her head in about 1 and 1/2 seconds.

I was still simply wondering "is there a bird or something in the house?" Apparently they trained girls at Catholic school with really great precision but to be honest, the hairdoes they wore in the 70s could indeed support a lot of creatures - probably entire families of them.

But, what to do? I think there was a tennis racket over in the garage, but I could just see me doing more damge to myself than the bat. Plan "B": I yelled like I have never yelled before.

Bat gone. Although, we did sleep with every light in the damned place on.