The Princess slept at her friend K’s house last night. I went to pick her up this morning. The girls had been building a fort in the backyard and her legs and feet were filthy.
So we came home and went upstairs to the bathroom. I opened the cabinet and reached in to pull out a washcloth. Remember that now. I put my hand in the cabinet. I was talking to the Princess so I was not looking into the cabinet when I opened it. Thank God.
After I shut the cabinet door something in the cabinet started making a loud chirping sound. Her Royal Highness and I just kind of looked at each other and then I continued to wash the mud off her legs. The chirping stopped and then started again.
I told myself (and the Princess) that there was probably a cricket or a cicada in there. Then I went downstairs and got Tom, resident Killer of Bugs to take care of it.
So I walk with Tom into the bathroom and point out which cabinet is making noise. Then, for reasons I will never understand, I just stood there next to the bathtub, and the Princess was in the doorway.
Well, Tom opened the cabinet, and what flopped out onto the floor? A BAT! Waaah! I screamed and jumped into the bathtub. Why? I don’t know I was too busy panicking to think clearly. The Princess also screamed and ran away. Tom kept his head and stepped on said bat. Then he yelled at me to get out of the bathroom. So I ran downstairs and out onto the porch. I told HRH that it was OK and that she could run out of her room to the stairs. She did.
The C-man meanwhile comes upstairs to see what all the commotion is about and I herd him onto the porch too.
Tom calls down that the bat is dead. He disposes of it, and cleans up the bathroom. Meanwhile I am in full-on, full-bore freak out mode.
I am deathly, pathologically afraid of bats. They are vile, filthy, disgusting evil creatures that do not belong in my house. I can’t even be outside at dusk when they start flying around. So I was crying, hyperventilating, shaking, the whole nine yards. It’s a pretty sorry sight believe me.
Of course all I can think about now is what if I had touched it or disturbed it in some way and it had bitten me? What if this, what if that? What if Tom hadn’t been home to do his knight in shining armor routine? That is too horrible to even consider.
So I call the vet med office and Tom and the kids take the dead bat over there to be tested for rabies. It didn’t bite anybody or anything, and the guy at the lab said he wouldn’t worry about exposure, and they will call us Tuesday with the results. Not that I know what we will do if the thing did have rabies. I guess I will try not to worry about that until Tuesday.
Meanwhile I am washing all the linens and towels that were in the cabinet in super-hot water. I would just throw them all out but that seems excessive. I am going to get a new mop-head (contaminated during bat clean-up) and a new bathmat (currently covering the site of the bat’s demise). And later, once I can work up the nerve to open that cabinet again I will go medieval in there with a can of Lysol.
But in the meantime I am just trying to stay out of there. And now I’m all itchy again. Time to go take (another) shower.
PS – Tom wants me to clarify that he wasn’t yelling at me to leave the bathroom. He was gently suggesting that perhaps I might be happier elsewhere. Actually he was yelling, but I would never have heard him over all the screaming if he hadn’t been.