It is at this point that Josh shouts, "CHELSEA, THERE IS A BAT IN THE APARTMENT! JESUS FREAKING CHRIST!"
We respond by screaming like little girls, then lunging for the apartment door in unison, seeking the comparative safety of the hallway. Josh is in his underwear and I'm missing my glasses. All I can see is the vague shape of a creature flapping about our living room.
We're hoping that the bat will fly into the hallway after us, so that we can duck back into the apartment and slam the door behind us. And hide until morning. But then it does come flapping into the hallway after us, and we panic and run farther from the apartment. Batty flies back into the living room.
At some point, it settles into hanging upside down from a plant hook. At this point, I get brave enough to sneak back into the living room to grab my glasses, a cell phone, and a computer.
You guys, I know that bats are next to harmless. Intellectually, I'm aware that it's a small, terrified animal that probably can't hurt me. This is approximately what it looked like--
http://www.flickr.com/photos/tanneberger/5326073040/ |
--but my brain interpreted it as a serial killer with a chainsaw, riding a fire-breathing dragon.
So anyway, Josh calls the property manager, and I decide to google "Bat in Apartment". Both gave variations of the same advice. Put on some gloves, catch it in a box, and take it outside. A plan that involved getting close to the bat.
It's less pants-pissingly terrifying when not in flight, so I sneak inside, open a window, and grab a garbage can and a stepping stool. But, it senses my approach and resumes its terrifying flight pattern. I retreat to the kitchen to regroup my nerves.
Watching from a distance, we can see that not just any bat flew into our apartment. No. We got the stupidest bat on the face of the planet. Countless times, it swoops toward the open window or door, only to return to our living room. Finally, by shear dumb luck, it dives out the window and our adventure is over.
It turns out Josh and I share a mutual fear of bats. Our complete and utter inability to handle this situation makes me afraid that, should we ever have children, they will be the kind of cowards that can't step on a spider for fear that it's friends will retaliate. I know I've always worried about that.
Anyway, we've concluded that Batman is probably a psychopath, because you would have to be to want to commune with these things.