A 3:00 A.M. Tale In Which We Experience Batshit Crazy For Real

As if last week, a difficult week for everyone, could not have been any stranger…

Forget your ancient church belfry, this tale takes place in modern times, starting in an upstairs suburban bedroom, moving to the two-story foyer, dashing about in 2 upstairs guest bedrooms, and culminating in the downstairs TV room adjacent to the kitchen.

Who is the star of this tale? Zen-Den, of course!

Here’s what happened.

I was awakened from a sound sleep when I heard the rattling of our wooden blinds at the bedroom window. I glanced over at the blinds and saw swooping birdlike shadows at the window. The shadows reminded me of scenes in the Alfred Hitchcock movie “The Birds.”

You see, in my drowsiness I thought somehow the bright light from the lamppost in front of the house was shining through the blinds making it appear that birds were creating shadowy silhouettes OUTSIDE the window.

But I was wrong.

I realized this when I got out of bed, walked over to the blinds to see what was going on at the window, only to learn that what I was seeing was INSIDE the house.

I definitively discerned this when something flew straight at me, swooped over my head as I hunched and shuddered, then dashed out the open bedroom door going into the foyer where it started flying around the chandelier like it was crazy.

Batty, even.

Fleece throw aka my impromptu babushka

Calmly, you would have been proud of me, I woke up Z-D who was oblivious to our winged intruder. I told him something was wrong, something creepy was flying around, and that he needed to get up to investigate. I also told him he’d be in the lead during the investigation.

I’d follow behind, on his six.

Utilizing my natural ability to scream loudly when under attack startled.

Without complaining he got up, dressing in jeans and a ragg wool knit beanie, and started walking around the upstairs rooms while I followed behind him, still in my jammies but with a plaid fleece throw [photo above] wrapped around my head like a Russian grandma in her babushka.

Quickly we realized that what I thought was a bird, was a bat. And that Z-D needed to get a broom from the garage, leaving me to stand alone in the foyer defending myself by screaming and holding a heavy doorstop [photo below] in front of my face, using it like a cross meant to keep vampires away.

This might have been helpful, maybe.

Heavy doorstop aka my potential weapon

The rest of this tale is what you’d expect if’n you’ve ever chased a bat through your house. We turned on lights everywhere. We got him out of one room, closed the door; then got him out of another room, closed the door; so on and so on, et cetera, et cetera. This went on until we were downstairs in the TV room where the bat was trying to hide on the floor in the shadows near a lounge chair.

Zen-Den saw him, wacked him with the broom, held him down, and shouted for me to get a cookie sheet from the kitchen. Which I did, putting it on the floor so that we could carefully slowly slide the bat, who was still alive and squeaking, onto it while Z-D used the broom to hold him down on the cookie sheet.

Together we slide our captive to the back door where Z-D then tossed the dude, who got into our house somehow but we don’t know how, outside into the snow.

The bat was shocked, but still alive, and gave us the evil eye as he straightened up and flew away into the night, no doubt as perturbed by this experience as we were.

And that, my gentle readers, is how it came to be that we experienced batshit crazy.

For real.

QUESTIONS OF THE DAY

Have you ever had a bat flying around inside your home? Assuming you didn’t want a bat flying around inside your home, what did you do to get rid of it?

Bats are known for their exceptional hearing abilities. Do you see the irony in a bat waking me up in the middle of the night because I’m extremely sensitive to sound? Am I part old bat and don’t know it‽

What’s the last batshit crazy thing that happened in your world? Tell all, we need to know.

~ ~ ~ ~

Self-awareness 101: If I Tell You I’m Doing Nothing, This Is What I Mean

…or maybe you won’t. Who’s to say?

OH MY. Cognitive dissonance. I got it.

The other day I realized that I’ve been saying something that’s not necessarily true.

Yes, that would be me, the one known for telling the truth no matter what.

You see, I keep saying that during these last few months of low-key blogging, aka my Summer Hours, I’ve been doing nothing.

That I’ve been a slug, first class, with honors.

That’s what I tell everyone.

BUT the reality is I’ve been doing many, many things behind the scene here in Chez Bean.  Things that are decidedly not interesting or exciting or worthy of a blog post.

And that last point, I realized in a moment of self-awareness, is how I divide my life now.

After all these years of writing a personal blog.

For the heck of it.

TO WIT, there are personal stories, or topics, that go into this blog and there are personal stories, or topics, that aren’t worth the time to muse upon, let alone type onto this virtual page.

I wish I could tell you that I knew when I started to divide the events in my life thusly, but I cannot.

I just know that’s how I do things.

Now.

And that when I say I’m doing nothing I mean: I’m doing nothing that would interest you so I won’t even mention it.

Daisies: Examples Of Tenacity OR Flowers With Loose Morals?

Daisies are sluts.

Zen-Den said this.  We were outside in our yard, working on the planting beds, trying to make our shrubs and flowers look presentable.  In the process of our gardening we noticed that the daisies were thriving.

Earlier this summer we transplanted them from the front of the house to the back of the house by the deck steps.  In the front yard the daisies were being overshadowed by tall birch trees, not getting enough sunshine to bloom.

In truth we were ready to chuck them into the wooded ravine behind the house but we had a change of heart so we gave them one. last. chance. by the deck stairs.

The daisies have graciously accepted their reprieve, growing by the deck stairs in the backyard where they’re getting 6+ hours of sunshine a day, looking healthy.

Enjoying their place in the sun, so to speak.

~ ~ ~ ~

I’m happy that we gave these daisies a new home in the garden because I find them charming, an inspiring example of the old axiom: “bloom where you’re planted.”  

Exhibiting style and tenacity, you know?

However to Mr. Man with his judge-y attitude, they’re hussies, flowers of ill repute giving off a morally dubious come-hither vibe.  Flowers who’ll do whatever it takes to stay in the garden.

Uh huh.

Clearly we differ on this point about the true character of daisies, thus demonstrating a basic principle of human nature: no matter what happens, if two people see it there will be two different interpretations of the same one event.

Is this not so?

Now I ask you, do these daisies look like sluts? Hmmm? Give me a break.

A Month In Review: Making Glad, Staying Home, Doing Whatever

Let’s start with the facts.

April is my second least favorite month of the year*.  This is the last day of April 2020, the longest April on record. Ever.

We do not need to go in depth into why this particular April has been endless, ridiculous, depressing, frightening, annoying, overwhelming, underwhelming, disruptive, insane, inane, et cetera, et cetera.

To my credit, I do believe, early on I set my intentions for this month and have accomplished those three intentions to the best of my ability.

• + •  💜 • + •

FIRST, I made a point to not complain about our personal small inconveniences during this dreadful month and I give myself an A- on this point.

Article to read: “I’m Depressed, But Feel I Have No Right To Be”: Class Guilt During The Pandemic

SECOND, I made a point to have no opinions about how other people  handled their time at home this month.  I give myself a B on this point, having mostly not said a word about some of your more dubious behaviors, oh my friends and family + neighbors and numbskulls.

Article to read: The Psychological Reason Why Some People Aren’t Following COVID-19 Quarantine Orders

LASTLY, I made a point to be gentle and forgiving with myself, allowing my moods to swing, my thoughts to roam, and my sense of purpose to be redefined within the context of the times.  On this I give myself an A+ because, not to put too fine of a point on it, I’m still here, sane, and relatively happy.

Poem to read: Lockdown Manifesto 

• + •  💜 • + •

And with that I will turn the page in my calendar, putting April behind me and gazing into the glorious month of May, my second most favorite month of the year**.  I’ve nothing scheduled to do in the month of May, but certainly it’ll be better than miserable old April, right?

One can only hope.

* August is my least favorite month of the year.
** October is my most favorite month of the year.

[May 2, 2020: I’ve reworked the look of this post to do an experiment with images, fonts, and the way in which Twitter tweets a link to it. The content remains the same.]