Last night, as I laid in bed, I could here something in the hall. We're talking maybe 3 a.m. Florence, the little Siamese kitty, was leaping at something and then landing with a thump.
Leap, land, thump.
Leap, land, thump.
Leap, land, thump, screech, squeal ?#@!
Crap, perhaps she caught a mouse, and I knew I should investigate before she proudly brought it into the bed (this has never happened to me, a mouse in the bed, but it did happen to my sister!). I turned on the bathroom light and started walking towards the hallway....and swoosh...something flew at my head. I ran into the bathroom and closed the door. I cracked the door open and yelled -
me: Joe, there is something flying around the bedroom.
Joe: It's nothing honey, go back to bed.
me: Joe it's a huge moth or a bat, you're gonna have to address this.
Joe: Go back to bed, it's only a mo... oh f#@k it's a bat.
Let me pause here and inform you that for some reason my husband jumped out of bed fully clothed in khaki shorts and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up - like a hot Indiana Jones ready to hunt bats at 3 am.
The bat was in heaven flying around my vaulted ceiling, weaving through the chandelier, dive bombing Joe. He caught it in a sheet after a few passes, and threw it out the window.
We got in bed and he cuddled up to me with his khaki shorts.
me: Why are you fully dressed?
Joe: I'm always ready for an expedition babe.
True Story.
The bat hunter.
