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Bat in our Basement, Chipmunk at our Window

August 28, 2009

Last night Thing 1 came upstairs to the living room where I was studying, always studying, and said “There’s something flying around the basement”.

Crap. There’d been a bird on the porch earlier this week. I walked into the basement storage room (with a metal sign over my head – it was the only thing available) and saw Scooter, our kitty, sitting under something on one of the rafters. It was a hanging thing, not a perching thing.

Crap. A bat.

Ricky Nugget had gone to pick Thing 2 up at work so all I could do was feel icky and go back and forth between keeping an eye on the bat or leaving the room to pace somewhere else. I did both. Why’d I donate those racquetball rackets? Nobody here has played racquetball for years but those things came in handy the last time we had a bat in the house. Which is long enough ago that the boys were still buddies and both sleeping in the basement at the time. That must be at least 4 years ago now.

Wow. That was an obscure memory that just dawned on me. It’s been a long time since the boys have been buddies. That’s just sad.

Anyway, Ricky Nugget seemed perturbed that I’d donated the rackets. He’s always pissed that I donate crap that never gets used, always something we need the day after I donate it. Never mind that that these are things we haven’t used in over a decade. It’s just how it seems to go.

But then, something better came to the Big Nugget’s head anyway. The Shop Vac was sitting right there. So I plugged it in for him, crouched with the metal sign still over my  head, while Ricky Nugget turned it on, walked directly under the bat, lifted the hose (with his hand mere inches from that creepy thing) and sucked the bat right into the shop vac.

Walked right under the thing like it was nothing. Not some pooping thing with sharp teeth and creepy wings that could make a nest out of a person’s hair.

Oh. Yeah. He has no hair to worry about.

I got all nervous, thinking the bat would figure a way out of the shop vac so I started yelling “Get that damn thing out of here! Run! Hurry! Gaaaaahhhhhhhh!”

Ricky Nugget took the thing outside in what felt like personal-affronting-slow-motion way. It was a personal attack, I just know it.

He said he’d opened the lid off the shop vac (how he did that, I’ll never know) but the bat just sat there. So he tipped the shop vac over. The bat fell out and then took off.



I don’t have classes on Friday so slept in for an extra hour. That was awesome!

After running errands, including taking the cats to the Vet, I did about two hours of homework (with another two to four more to go!)

Back out again later, I took Thing 2 to work then drove around in search of a rolling backpack. Found one that was cheaply made so went to another store where I found a Columbia one with Rollerblade wheels. A sweet ride for my books, I tell you. It was originally priced for $135 but I got it for $45. Dorky or not, my back will thank me and my left foot will thank me.

Tomorrow it’s the damn dog’s turn at the Vet. She needs some shots and I’m going to talk to my friend, Deb the Vet, to see if she’d recommend a Doggy Downer for the hyper beast. She is just too insane to train. Stella is a nervous little mofo who would spend her day fixated on the chipmunk outside. That beast taunts her day after day, hanging out right in front of the family room window, staring back at the damn dog. I have spent too much time shooing the dog from the window. She refuses to stay away and I refuse to keep the curtains closed. Damn. First it was the neighbors I didn’t want to see and now it’s damn chipmunk I don’t want the dog fixating on. Can a gal ever get a break and a good view?

3 Comments leave one →
  1. August 29, 2009 9:19 am

    Ricky Nugget and his racquetball rackets reminded me of Bill and his precious (to him) bike. He bought this bike at a garage sale in the mid 80’s. In those days, he drove tour buses full of senior citizens. He would take his bike with him. After he got his seniors tucked into their hotels at night, he’d ride his bike around whatever city he was in. He. Loved. This. Bike. After Shelby was born, he stopped driving tours. We all had bikes and would ride whenever, wherever. Fast forward to 2003. Shelby was part of a group of students who were invited to sing at Carnegie Hall in NYC. We did hours and hours of fundraising. One of the fundraisers was a huge garage sale. I asked Bill to donate his precious bike. It was at least 20 years old and he hadn’t ridden it in 3-4 years. He agreed. Unfortunately when he agreed, it was one of those times where he really wasn’t listening to me and just agreed with me to shut me up. ;o) To THIS day, whenever he can’t find something he’s looking for, he’ll accuse me of selling it without asking him first. “Just like that time you sold my bike. I LOVED that bike. I was going to BURIED with that bike.” The funniest part? He didn’t even realize the bike was gone…for over a year.

  2. August 29, 2009 10:57 am

    The shop vac? Oh, gross! (I’m glad the bat survived;I’m sure it just made a wrong turn into your house.)

    Should you ever again find a bat in your space — flying or hanging — throw a sheet over it. Then you can decide whether to carry it outside or not.

    • August 29, 2009 2:33 pm

      If you can figure out how to throw a sheet over a bat that’s hanging from a cross rafter between two ceiling rafters, let me know. The shop vac was the only way it could have been done, short of just grabbing the thing with your hands!

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