Just when you thought it couldn't get any more uncomfortable:
It's 4:12 a.m., the baby has been fed every hour since 10:00 p.m., he's been changed, he's warm and dry and snug, but he's still crying, and you think you are going to lose your sanity because you just want to get a half hour's sleep. Then you hear something in the hallway. You step out of the bedroom and something brown and fast whizzes past your face. Your eyes are still blurry and your head aches from the lack of sleep. You figure it's your imagination. Like in the movie Fight Club, in which the narrator has a psychotic break that springs from his lack lack of sleep. So now you start to think up new scenarios for a club of your own. Maybe you too will use this new fight club as a springboard for your own subversive anarchist reform agenda. Maybe you will figure out a way to turn your underground clout into a method of ridding Lake Michigan of its industrial polluters...
But no. It's not in your head. You are not having a psychotic break. It is indeed something brown and fast flying back and forth down your hallway. It's a bat. And this time it's personal.
So. Have any of our (2) readers had any experience with home bat removal? We are open to suggestions on how to get this thing out of our house. We have called American Animal Control, and they are coming out tomorrow to take a look at our attic. They did a really nice job on our moles last summer, so we are hopeful. But we still have another night to spend with our bat friend. As we write this blog, he is sleeping somewhere in the basement. He is enjoying his much needed rest after a long night of exploring our house and (probably) trying to eat our baby.
We guess it makes sense. This is a house of night dwellers, now. We sleep by day and feed by night. We are CHUD.
And boy, do we have a headache.
Wanna join our club?
4 comments:
CHUD? More like CABK (cannibalistic aboveground bat killers), no?
You have my permission to stomp the bastard to death!
For flying pests, we usually recommend flamethrowers or Barry Manilow's "A Christmas Gift of Love".
what is this, Bright Lights, Big City??
There is always the tennis racket maneuver that my Dad once used to whisk it out of a large open window. (Keep it contained in one room...) How fun for you!
Post a Comment