Friday night IT Prof and I settled down to relax and be amused by some of Netflix old "Wodehouse Playhouse" episodes. John Alderton and Pauline Collins were so funny in the Mulliner stories. Oh, what a pleasant evening until suddenly . . .
a bat flew over our heads in the family room. (I kid you not.) The terrifying beast sailed unnervingly close to our heads, and IT Prof and I were immediately creeped out. The most important question in our lives instantly became, "Is that bat rabid?" IT Prof stood up and tried to follow the bat as it flew through the house (stupid open floor plan which seemed so great when we bought the house). IT Prof was forced to be the brave hunter because I hunkered down in the easy chair and refused to move until I could no longer see the bat..
Eventually IT Prof thought he had chased the bat to the unfinished part of our basement. So, we shut the door and actually tied the doorknob to a weight in order to keep the bat trapped until daylight. We figured it was too dark for us to find it, so we returned to Wodehouse. We also planned to shut the doors on our bedroom after we went to bed, just in case of any rodential escape, to keep the bat from dive bombing us in our sleep.
All was well for a few minutes until the (instead of "a," we hoped) bat flew over our heads again. IT Prof and I pretty much repeated our previous performance, except that this time IT Prof bravely fetched a broom. Eventually he was able to hit the bat, which should have remained outside in its habitat instead of invading our territory if it didn't want all this grief. Soon, IT Prof managed to trap the bat, and . . . (I now draw a curtain over the immediately subsequent event to protect the sensibilities of any squeamish readers).
We checked the Internet and learned that the consensus was that bats should be professionally removed from a house, mainly because of the danger of climbing to high places in order to seal all possible cracks. IT Prof and I decided that one bat was a terrifying misfortune of fate, but if we saw a second bat (which we would know was the second bat since one particular bat would certainly not be flying over our heads again), we would call in Batbusters immediately.
Eighteen hours later and still no further sightings. So, we think the bat was an aberration. Or, are the bats just getting sneakier and setting us up for a flying mammalian invasion? I really, really, really hope not.