It’s 10:30 p.m. on July 2, 2007. I finished reading my book (Babel – A.S. Byatt) and snuggled down under my covers to go to sleep. Sergei was purring, the hot tea I had finished warmed me up because my apartment is kept at a comfortable 72 degrees. Then I fell into a deep sleep.
It’s 2:30 a.m. on July 3, 2007. I am woken out of my deep sleep by loud squeaking sounds, much like a broken fan. The fan that runs next to my bed is working fine. The purr machine, Sergei is curiously absent. The sounds are coming from the utility room – sounds of a cat hissing and a bat squealing. Me, being the wuss I am, quickly shut the door and shove towels under it to prevent this.
3:00 a.m. The noises are just as loud. I move from my bedroom to my living room after turning on every light in my apartment. With me I have another book and my pillow. I ignore both and stare through the door to my bedroom praying that the bat doesn’t make it through the towel barrier.
4:00 a.m. After an hour of sitting and staring I try to make myself read a little. My tummy growls and I go make myself a sandwich and a glass of milk. Sergei has stopped throwing himself all over the room and was probably eating or something – but the bat was still squealing just as loud. About in tears at this point I call my dad and wake him up with, “Dad I think the bat killed Sergei!” My dad and brother both reassure me that a bat cannot kill my 15 pound cat and that everything will be fine. Hah. They can’t hear what I am hearing.
4:15 a.m. I called the police department which is right down the street to see if maybe a kind officer would help me. They won’t.
4:30 a.m. I go stand outside the door to my apartment and cry because I’m too much of a wuss to chase the bat out of my utility closet so I can go to sleep.
4:45 a.m. I debate going out to my car to sleep. The debate is cut short when I notice another bat attached to the door leading outside of the building.
4:46 a.m. I run back into my apartment and sit on my couch with a towel over my head.
4:51 a.m. I glare at my clock because it’s not time to go to work yet.
5:00 a.m. I spend more time staring into my bedroom and listening to the incessant squeaking from the utility room.
5:30 a.m. I look out the window and watch huge swarms of bats flying around, illuminated by the rising sun.
6:15 a.m. The squealing stops and I slowly creep into my room to lay down – facing the door to the utility closet.
6:45 a.m. I fall asleep – and wake at 7:10 a.m. to my alarm.
7:15 a.m. I slowly open the door to the utility room and am greeted by a cheerful Sergei – but no bat to be seen. Sergei impatiently reminds me he’d like breakfast.
7:55 a.m. I leave the apartment to go to work – but Mr. Other Bat is still on the door leading outside. My kind neighbor was nice enough to let me go out the door in his apartment leading outside.
So this is how I spent my night. I can’t handle bats or mice, at all. I literally freeze when I see them in the same room as me. My landlord has fixed my window so hopefully there won’t be any more bats taking up residence in my utility room, but I probably still have this one loud bat still living in there somewhere. I don’t know how many more nights I am going to be able to handle this.
Christian Bale, where are you when I need you??