Taking Batsh*t Crazy to a Whole 'Nother Level.

Last night I had to show CJ how to floss properly (because we went to the dentist and we all have to do EVERYTHING the dentist says. Maybe we can have the dentist tell the kids to pick up their toys when they're done playing with them?), so I was standing in the bathroom downstairs and I thought I saw something fly down out of the corner of my eye. Because I'm becoming an expert on the flight pattern of bats, I was fairly certain that we had another visitor. But I turned around to look and it was gone, so I figured I was imagining things.

I explained to CJ what I had thought I'd seen and he just kind of laughed at me. Then he went upstairs and told CB that "Mommy thought she saw a bat!" CB was not amused and thought that I was off my rocker. Going batsh*t crazy, as it were. I know this because I heard him up there telling CJ that there was no way I had seen a bat. Then I went upstairs to tuck the kids in and CB went down to the basement to put a load of clothes in the wash. The next thing I heard was him pounding up the stairs, grumbling the whole way. I was only able to understand a few words, one of which was "bat".

"Ha ha! I was right! There was a bat! And I'm NOT losing my mind!" And then "Crap. There's another bat in this freaking house."

This time, however, I'm happy to report that he disappeared before we could get him back outside. And we think we've got it figured out where they are coming in. There's another door outside our house that goes straight down into the basement instead of having to go through the house and down the creaky old semi-spiraled staircase. Right above that door is a tiny little gap (we've learned through all of this that bats only need a 1/4" space to crawl through, and that boggles my mind, people!) and the steps are littered with guano. Ewwww.

So we put the plywood sheet that goes up in the winter on the door a few months early, hoping that it will at least keep the little things out of my living room.

I am so ready to move. I hated this house before, but having these things in it has been the last straw. The thing is that there are already 40 houses for sale in this town. This is not that big of a place and there isn't a huge influx of people, mostly because there is nothing here. So, odds of us actually selling and getting the hell out of here are slim to none. Plus, there's at least five remodeling projects in various states of incompletion and at least a year of work (two at the rate we've been going lately). And you have to have money to buy the stuff before you can actually finish the projects, and as you can see from yesterday's post, any spare money is being tied up in the betterment of the family's teeth.

I'm at my wit's end with all this crap. So maybe that's why I've been thinking about the past recently. About a time when I had zero responsibility and could just up and fix things whenever I wanted to. When I can't change things I want to change, it tends to push me into a funk. I'm tired of the funk.