8.27.2009

I do not have time for this . . .

So, yeah, I do not have time for this, but I will write 1 (ONE) paragraph and that is it just because I told myself I would and I haven't.

The thing I need to write about is our latest incidents of bats in the house. It began (as bat stories always do) with someone (Dave) cutting a hole in a wall (the ceiling of the kitchen cuz the roof won't quit leaking) somewhere and the bats, who (that) have lived up wherever forever saying "thank you so much, yes, we will come on in." They don't do this right away, but they wait until you are not expecting a bat to come flying past you and whoosh there they go. The first one had a furry face--Tom and Rick took a photo of it . . . looking Dracula-like--Dave IDed it as a brown bat. Then that night or the next night he came back (cuz they let it go outside) and Tom woke up to Dharma (our shy cat) beating the crap out of one on the table. Tom again flung the bat outside (we don't catch on) and thought he saw Dharma heading after another one which then disappeared. Okay--now Dave put some cardboard up to block the hole. I am never home, I thought, so this really has little affect on me except if everyone gets rabies. I head up to the bedroom to do some mending . . . swoop! a little bat appears and then disappears (evidently the disappearing one from earlier). Yipes--I call the brave and awesome Dave who finds the little frightened critter on top of the curtain rod and takes him to the great outdoors. Darn this is really where I wanted to begin this paragraph so let's make it 2 (two) paragraphs.

What it made me start thinking about was how bats really do act "batty" and how squirrels act "squirrelly" and how many ways humans compare behavior and appearance with animals and insects in language and literature, i.e. busy as a bee, stubborn as a mule, quiet as a mouse (except the ones I had in the walls of my house when I was 21 years old). We only can imagine that we soar over the rooftops or spin a web or jump as graceful as a gazelle. I can see why women can be foxy or men perhaps wolves, but I don't see how being "a dog" could ever be bad. Someone goofed.

3 comments:

joanne said...

It must be our newly acquired spiritual connection, but this morning I went straight (okay, after reading emails and facebook) to your blog, only to find you posted yesterday! Made me laugh, great way to start the day. Any day. A few days ago, your wonderful son, oops 'OUR' wonderful son, helped Seaton tear down the shop. As Seaton was delicately punching out the walls with his tractor, suddenly BATS were swirling around him. Sadly these bats are now in need of a good home and I immediately assumed they'd be taking up the next available building. After all, they moved into the shop after we took down the barn. Moving eastward, the next structure will be the house! Fair enough. All sounds good, until I find one actually IN the house, so I feel your pain girl!! I like bats when they live outside. Not so much inside. And I agree about the "dog" expression. Whoever first said "she's a 'dog' obviously never had one! So what does it mean then to "be batty"?

Oh Barb, please keep writing!! Love you!!

Anonymous said...

We are truly under the same moon :) I love you, Joanne.

Barb said...

Oh for corn sakes--I'm not anonymous, I'm Barb!