Get to Know Bill: I am horrified of bats

So last night, my wife and I were enjoying a small evening meal and watching “Trading Spaces” or “Extreme Makeover” or “Oprah.” It was one of those shows where people try to make other people’s life better by building something or by telling them what books they should be reading.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, two bats flew in a small window. They were traveling at some ungodly speed … literally moving like bats out of hell. We both shared one fairly peaceful moment of “Hmm, how about that?” when we realized they were, in fact, bats.

And then the Mr. Bean skit ensued.

We totally freaked, me even worse that her. We live in a fairly bat-infested area, but for the most part, they don’t bother us, so we don’t bother them. However, I had long ago warned my spouse that if said bats ever entered the house, I would lose it. Because while I have a love for all living things, bats are, in essence, flying rats, and I’m terrified of rats. Put wings on them and it’s flat-out the apocalypse.

So my wife and I spent a minute or two completely losing it, running around the room, swinging pillows, even though the bats had left the room and were exploring the rest of our house, checking out our home-design skills or whatever the hell it is bats do.

My wife’s response was simple and swift - “kill them!” Now, this is her default response to anything out of the ordinary entering our home, whether it be a cockroach or a rhino. If Jesus himself descended from heaven with a Christmas bag full of chocolate bunnies and dreidels, my wife would demand I kill it, and Mel Gibson would totally lose out on a new epic.

Luckily, the bats flew into separate bedrooms. So after regaining a slight bit of composure, I ran to the rooms (swinging a pillow wildly over my head. They go for the hair, you know) and shut the doors, trapping them inside.

Now, for me, that was enough, Problem solved, bats contained, time to move. Sadly, my wife demanded more of me and wanted me to actually run into each room, where the bats were wildly fluttering, and open the windows, which, of course, were closed. And locked.

I realized something about myself last night. Despite being 40, I still haven’t fully bought into the idea that I’m an adult. Because my first response was “why me!?” Then it occurred to me (or, she made it occur to me) that there was no one else to handle this situation, only me, because she sure as hell wasn’t going in there.

So, to make a long story just this much longer, I managed to get in the rooms (I turned the lights on in the rooms, first, as I figured that would confuse them) and opened the windows. About two hours later I snuck back into each room, my wife behind me, to check for them, and saw they were gone. As I backed out of one of the rooms, I backed into my wife, causing me to totally lose it again. You could actually hear the theme song from Benny Hill.

In the end, I lived to tell about it, though my wife has totally lost whatever last bit of respect she had for me for acting like such a spaz. I had warned her it would happen, but the reality of it left her disgusted.

Later we discussed whether we should have an exterminator come to our home and throw down a bat genocide, but decided against it, and realized that this sort of thing may happen occasionally. Because no matter how horrifying they are, they’re still just animals doing whatever it is they do in this world. I wouldn’t feel right killing them. I’m too busy fleeing, anyway.

-WKW

Previously posted at Shakesville, March 26, 2007.