B is for Batman

I have decided to join in on this A to Z blogging challenge.  I'm a little late to the party and I missed out on posting one for the letter A. A is for Accept my Apologies, please. So, today we are starting with the letter B.  B is for Batman.

Back in 2009, our town had a terrible storm in the middle of the night. This was back when we lived in town in the adorable house the David built for me.

Oh!  Have I not mentioned that my husband ripped apart a house built in 1910, rebuilt it according to my specifications for seven years, and then promptly made me move to Ruralville as soon as the cute house was complete?

Yes? No? Yes?

It doesn't matter.  Just know that in a town about 45 minutes away from me, there sits a cute house that I both love and hate.

I love it because it is mine.

I hate it because it is STILL mine and we have to deal with renters.

Renters.  Not for the faint of heart.

But, I digress.  Let us get back to the story at hand, shall we?

So.  There was this storm. David and I would sleep with our window open in the summertime and the thunder woke me up. It was wretched, terrible thunder. The kind where you begin to wonder if the end is near. I was surprised the kids slept through it all. I was not surprised that the Lumberjack slept through it.

"Pssst-honey"

"Huh?

"I'm scared."

"Huh?"

"Don't you hear that thunder?

"zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

Story.

Of.

My.

Life.

The next day, I was tidying up the house for the 47th time that day, because, have you heard?  We have four kids. I glanced out the front window. Strange . . . there were some leaves slammed up under the open window frame and stuck in the screen. I went to grab them.

Wait a sec . . . hmmm?

Now, dear readers. My neighbor had always droned on and on to me of her terrible time with bats. I would complain about my mice infestation (don't judge me), and she would complain about bats in her laundry room. I thought she was nuts. Bats? Downtown? Near my house? Right . . .

I was beginning to think my neighbor was not so crazy after all.

I am brilliant.

I graduated with honors from both high school and college.

(Surprise!)

Obviously the horrific thunderstorm also brought high-speed winds (of which I never heard) that slammed this flying rodent into my window where it eerily superglued itself to my screen as it came to its final resting place.
I decided that I must take pictures of this epic event because no one will believe this.

(No one did)

I even posted it on The Facebooks.  Yes.  I post unnecessary information on Facebook because I am certain my friends care.  I am one of those people.
My kind Facebook friends all informed that this creature was more than likely alive,
which made me want to scream and run and place . . . . seeing as how I had gotten pretty close to the "dead, harmless" bat so I could capture this memory in time.

It is moments like these when I am so glad that God has blessed me with my husband. My man will come home and get me out of this mess. What does he care? Once, while on a "romantic walk" together, my manly-man hunter husband successfully hunted a grouse, gutted it right then and there, slapped the breasts on the bbq and ate it for dinner.

Hands off, ladies.  He's all mine.

So, the Lumberjack came home. He seemed unimpressed with the fact that there was a bat on our window, nor with the fact that I had turned it into Facebook Bat Drama 2009. He said not a word as he grabbed the broom. I grabbed the camera, feeling fearless. He smacked the "dead" bat, who floated back up into the trees, very much alive. I snapped the picture just in the nick of time.

I was a little jumpy. Sorry.