I know my problems don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world, but for f-ing's sake.
A bat flew in when I opened the back deck's screen door to let a cat in, 7 p.m.-ish Aug. 30.
Catastrophic fires, floods, hurricanes, earthquakes, victory for the American Taliban's gynophobia.
I got a bat. Curse words fail.
The cat, at least, showed me where the bat landed, clinging high up on a wall. I would have found it anyway because it was making chirping noises. Standard size, dark fur.
While it did loops around the living room, I closed doors — bathroom, bedrooms, laundry. Closed window blinds, so that the door to the deck was the only light source.
Opened the screen. Stepped back.
Bat flew to freedom.
I gotta get me some better curse words.
-30-
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