Last night, as I was happily blogging away (reading others that is) I heard rain drops falling on my roof. They got louder and louder. We were actually having a summer thunder shower. It has been months since the last good pounding of rain on my dry and crispy grass. How lovely, how exciting. Matt was stashed away reading Harry Potter, but I was up and I was going to watch the rain come down.
A warm summer rain, a cool breeze, a comfy chair (at least a semi-clean white plastic yard chair), how romantic. So I shut down my computer and headed for the door. I stepped outside and it was perfect. I saw a flash from an undiscovered lightening just as I arrived at the party. My porch was dry and my chair was waiting.
As I walked toward it, I saw something. Something black. Something hairy and rodent like was sticking to my wall! There was a bat taking in the summer storm right where I wanted to be. Maaaaannn! How not romantic! I slowly backed away. I stood by the door contemplating my bravery and strength. I grew up in Idaho, I was not afraid of bats. But neither do I like them! And this lonely bat, which if it ever shows up again will fear for its life, was single handedly ruining my nice rain watching.
I was strong, I was brave. I watched the storm for 30 seconds max. Then I retreated to the relative bugless state of comfort in my home, my nice dry, cleanish, full of dirty birthday dishes and torn wrapping paper, happy home. I listened to the lulling sound of the rain as I laid in bed beside Matt and Harry (and perhaps Ron and Hermione, although I never felt them kicking me and taking all the covers).
As you can see, he's still there. If he doesn't fly away tonight, SOMETHING will have to be done!