Holy Guano! Bats, Man!
Aug. 16th, 2006 07:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pen_gruntBats in the Bedroom.
The longer Derrick and I co-habitate, the more things we find out that we don't know about each other. For instance, feelings on bats.
Last night I had just drifted off to sleep with the light on. (I was doing what I like to call "testing sleep"--where I really don't WANT to go to bed yet, but I'm tired. I close my eyes for a few moments and if I can't go to sleep right away, I return to reading. I never end up reading.)
Derrick had also just shut his eyes when up from our bedroom ceiling there arose such a clatter...(The best we can figure--retrospectively--was that the poor little bat had actually run into our [slow speed, ultra-quiet] fan.)
Derrick wakes me up by putting his face really close to mine and saying, "Missy, honey, don't lift up your head."
You see, bats are one of those things that we haven't covered in our relationship yet. I mean, really, how often do you have a bat-circling-your-bed situation on your hands? He was betting that I would scream (though I'm not quite sure why--I have an extremely high tolerance for all things reptilian, creepy, crawly and otherwise).
So the first thing I do is look up. There it is. A bat is making quick circles around our bedroom ceiling. If anyone has ever gotten too close to a swallow's nest and has consequently been dive-bombed...that's kind of what it felt like.
I turn back to Derrick who says, "I really hate bats."
I say, "I don't hate bats, but I do hate things flying at my head--so I'm going to be a girl on this one."
I duck under the covers as the bat makes progressively lower circles by my head. I then peek out and watch Derrick lead the bat out of our bedroom (only to have him come flying back in before he can shut the door--causing another ducking under the covers from me). He manages to guide the bat downstairs and onto the porch where said bat decides to cling to the wall instead of flying outside. He didn't want to hurt the bat, but did end up thwacking it a titch too hard with the broom to try to "urge" it outside.
Poor little bat. Now we know that: a) We both like bats--just outside, b) Missy will not scream and/or freak out when woken to bat warnings, c) Our biggest concern about bats in the house is their guano, and d) Derrick is perfectly willing to "be the boy" in situations such as this (and, well, cleaning dead fish out of the fish tank).
Batty.
The longer Derrick and I co-habitate, the more things we find out that we don't know about each other. For instance, feelings on bats.
Last night I had just drifted off to sleep with the light on. (I was doing what I like to call "testing sleep"--where I really don't WANT to go to bed yet, but I'm tired. I close my eyes for a few moments and if I can't go to sleep right away, I return to reading. I never end up reading.)
Derrick had also just shut his eyes when up from our bedroom ceiling there arose such a clatter...(The best we can figure--retrospectively--was that the poor little bat had actually run into our [slow speed, ultra-quiet] fan.)
Derrick wakes me up by putting his face really close to mine and saying, "Missy, honey, don't lift up your head."
You see, bats are one of those things that we haven't covered in our relationship yet. I mean, really, how often do you have a bat-circling-your-bed situation on your hands? He was betting that I would scream (though I'm not quite sure why--I have an extremely high tolerance for all things reptilian, creepy, crawly and otherwise).
So the first thing I do is look up. There it is. A bat is making quick circles around our bedroom ceiling. If anyone has ever gotten too close to a swallow's nest and has consequently been dive-bombed...that's kind of what it felt like.
I turn back to Derrick who says, "I really hate bats."
I say, "I don't hate bats, but I do hate things flying at my head--so I'm going to be a girl on this one."
I duck under the covers as the bat makes progressively lower circles by my head. I then peek out and watch Derrick lead the bat out of our bedroom (only to have him come flying back in before he can shut the door--causing another ducking under the covers from me). He manages to guide the bat downstairs and onto the porch where said bat decides to cling to the wall instead of flying outside. He didn't want to hurt the bat, but did end up thwacking it a titch too hard with the broom to try to "urge" it outside.
Poor little bat. Now we know that: a) We both like bats--just outside, b) Missy will not scream and/or freak out when woken to bat warnings, c) Our biggest concern about bats in the house is their guano, and d) Derrick is perfectly willing to "be the boy" in situations such as this (and, well, cleaning dead fish out of the fish tank).
Batty.
