First Things First

I have a lot to tell you about my week, but this story goes first.

So we get home last night and I start sorting laundry as we dump it out of bags and suitcases.  Laundry so dirty and dusty it could sort itself.  Sort, sort, sort.  I am a sorting machine.  I go into the basement and over to the area where the laundry chute empties out so I can gather the laundry left over before we left.  Sort, gather, sort.  I am in that bent over position of a person sorting laundry that is on the floor.  You know what I mean.  I turn from the chute area  in the bent position to grab some hand towels on the floor.  As I reach for the pile, the top towel turns it head and looks at me with sad, starving eyes.

Wait a minute.

That’s not a towel.

That’s a bat.

A bat that squeezed itself somehow into my basement up to a week ago and could not find its way out and chose this pile of hand towels as a place to die.

But I have just come from Wyoming!  I am not faint of heart!  I spent last week looking for a bear! I can deal with this!

Very calmly I looked at the bat and said, “Okay, wait here.”

And then I ran upstairs and got Brent.

I looked for the bear from the safety of the car, are you kidding me? I cannot handle a bat alone.


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