We’d just moved into the new house, so workers are bustling around everywhere. One morning while bringing materials in, a worker looks at me and asks, “Did you know you have a bat in the house?”
“No, where?”
“Up there,” he says, nodding in the direction of the vaulted ceiling in the gathering room. I look around but see nothing, so when he comes back out after dropping off the materials, he points. Following his finger with my eyes, I see a small black spot. He assures me it’s a bat, and I immediately know the source of that high-pitched keening I heard when The Engineer left for work that morning.
My daughter is amused and names the bat Leopold. You can call me a fool, but I’m just not comfortable having a bat inside my house – cute name or no – so I call my pest control contractor. “John,” I say, “there’s a bat in my house. Can you come relocate him?”
“There’s nothing I can do about bats,” he tells me, “but I can tell you what to do, and it’s not hard. Get a stocking and stuff a couple of your husband’s socks down into the toe. Bats work on a kind of radar, you see, so go open the nearest door then sling the stocking with the socks in the toe around and around and around in a circle. The bat will feel the breeze, get the picture, and fly out of the house.”
“John, that’s never gonna’ work,” I complain.
“It’s not hard,” he assures me, and he starts over. “Just get a stocking and stuff a couple of your husband’s socks down into the toe, then open a door, sling the sock-stuffed stocking . . . ”
“Stop right there, John. That’s why your method is not going to work.”
“Huh?”
“Where on earth am I gonna’ find a stocking?”
~~~~~~~
I spent part of every day trekking down memory lane and telling stories here in this e-nest. If you’d like to read along, why don’t you just mash the “right this way” button in the orange ribbon at the top of the screen and follow the directions. It’s free, quick, easy, and mutely appreciated.
Pull up a chair why don't you, and let's talk . . .