These things always seem to happen when I'm in the shower.
There I was, enjoying a steaming hot soak to wash away the sore muscles from yesterday's fundraisers. Yes, that's right: two fundraisers. One for The Skating Gnu's Youth Assembly and one for the Orphanage. Both were a lot of fun and wildly successful. But it was a long day. And I'm gettin' too friggin' old for long days on my feet.
I ache, therefore I soak. Ahhh......
I"m just getting ready to start the repeat cycle of lather-rinse-repeat when I hear a loud commotion from the other end of the house followed by this snippet of conversation:
The Skating Gnu: "What The FREAK!!!!"
Mrs. Gnu: "AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! SHUT THE DAMN DOOR!!"
The Skating Gnu: [Raucous laughter]
As I scramble out of the shower I consider two options:
Option A: Someone is in trouble and I may need either a weapon or a first aid kit. Or both, depending on my aim.
Option B: There's a big, scary bug in the house again and my wife is just doing her usual freak-out over it.
Option B explains the laughter from my daughter. So rather than charge in towel-clad and dripping wet to attack whatever it is that's invading my house, I opt for the more calm approach and take a moment to put on some pants and my housecoat, assuring myself that the bug can't possibly be that big and scary despite the continuing screams (and laughter) emanating from the living room.
Nope. I miscalculated a bit on this one.
I walked in to the living room, expecting to see some tiny speck crawling on the wall and instead was dive-bombed by a flying object aiming for my head, followed by another scream from The Missus, "Watch out! It's a VAMPIRE BAT!!"
After extracting myself from under the coffee table, I was able to get a closer look at my attacker: a cute little wren had somehow flown inside and was now flitting back and forth from perch to perch in search of an escape path.
Me: "A vampire bat? Really? It's a bird, you Dodo. [The pun was completely lost on the pair of them. The bird wasn't amused either.] How is it that you manage to equate 'flying animal' with something that isn't even indigenous to this continent??"
Okay, so vampire bats go as far north as Northern Mexico. That's still a three-hour jet flight away from us. No idea how that translates into unladen swallow airspeeds...
The Missus: "I don't care! It's a Pterodactyl as far as I'm concerned and it's after me! Get it out!"
Okay, fair enough. I don my best "Dragonslayer" pose and get down to business.
My big plan was to shut all the doors to the rest of the house, hang blankets in the doorways and herd the little bugger into the dining room where I could open a window and let him out.
The Missus on the other hand, surprised all of us with her ability to simplify the best laid plans of mice and men (and vampire bats) by opening the back door and standing back.
Birds apparently do a better job with the concept of open windows and doors than houseflies do: he flew right out, not missing a wingbeat. Problem solved. Now all we have to do is check the high spots in the house for bird poop. I'm too short for that job so I'm leaving it to The Missus.
In answer to the smug look on her face from her commendable application of Occam's Razor, I reminded her that, knowing my luck, if I'd been the one to open the door our bird in hand would have been joined by every bird in the bush!