So I told a story yesterday about my adventure with a bat in our apartment. I was informed today that I forgot the most important part of the message…”what happened to the bat?”

I was explaining that I hadn’t ridden my bike in 2 weeks because I injured my ankle battling a bat. Here is what I said yesterday:

One night a bat got in our apartment.  (I still contend that the rumors of me screaming like an 8 year old girl are exaggerated, but that’s besides the point.)

I took one of Méabh’s blankets…I’m sure it wasn’t one of the ones any of you gave her.  and tried to throw it over the bat while it flew at me. I missed. tried to dodge the bat as it came towards me, tripped and fell on the coffee table. And most importantly, messed up one of my ankles.  It is still sore and swollen, which means I haven’t ridden my bike in about 2 weeks.

And that was the end of my bat story.

After that, Liz stood by the entryway door to our apartment. The bat kept flying in and out, but she was finally able to slam it shut. Then she noticed that there was a widow over the door, so she climbed up on a desk, leaned over and closed the window.

Thankfully the door to the stairway was open.

That’s when we remembered that Hannah was due to come home from work at anytime. So we called here and told her to wait.

When the landlord came (one of the nice things we’re enjoying about renting is there is a land lord to take care of random stuff like this) he opened the front door to the building, the bat flew out, and that’s the end of the story.

Thanks again Liz.

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