A Single Gal's Gotta Do What A Single Gal's Gotta Do!

I SERIOUSLY deserve the Good Neighbor of the Year Award!

Let me set the stage.

I've just finished a wonderful day of worship in the Lord's house, done some exercising, and working on a presentation that I have to make to the entire faculty on Wednesday of this week--that alone will probably be another "note"-- I am relaxing from the day and mentally preparing to go to bed so as to be ready for an incredibly busy upcoming week.

Suddenly, at 10:15 pm, my 70 year old widowed neighbor calls in a state of panic. 

Frankie: Donna, I don't know what to do.
Me: Frankie, what's wrong?
Frankie:  I don't know what to do.  There's something on my floor. I think it might be a bat.
Now at this point, I about drop the phone. 

Me:  A WHAT?
Frankie: A bat? I don't know--something like that.  I don't know what to do.  Oh, Donna.

Now at this point, my mind is reeling.  I WANT to say:  "Do you realize whom you are calling? I do NOT handle rodents, let alone FLYING rodents!  Seriously, could you not have called Animal Control?  They have professionals for this.  However, calmly (though my heart is already racing..)

Me:  Are you sure, Frankie?
Frankie:  Oh, I don't know.  I don't know what to do.
Me: [Trying to appear like I deal with FLYING RODENTS every day]  Just a minute let me put my shoes on.  I'll be right over.

 Now, this is the girl that cannot handle a roach--or as people around here like to call them Palmetto Bugs (say in high pitched voice with a southern accent)  (like a different name somehow makes them better).  WHATEVER.  A roach is a roach is a roach.  I do NOT do fast moving anythings.  Give me a spider ANYDAY!  This is the girl that changed her status every 2 seconds last year as she was panicked over a "noise" coming from the chimney and had to have a friend talk me through closing the flue...and SCREAMED taking out the eadrums of said friend as I closed the flue.  It ended up being a poor (right!) little frog which my cousin graciously removed from my house.

And now, you want ME to deal with a FLYING RODENT??  This is seriously going to take supernatural intervention.
I reluctantly put on my shoes wondering whom I would call if I were to find FLYING RODENTS on MY kitchen floor.  I walk over praying as I go--seriously.
I quietly--secretly hoping she wouldn't hear me--knock on the door.  And, I didn't want to scare said flying rodent--though I remember later that they are afraid of noise, right???  I need to ask my 5th grade boys.
Frankie: [hollering]  DONNA??
Me:  Yes, it's me.  Do you want me to go to the front door?
Frankie:  [Muffled scream]
Me:  Frankie????
Door opens.
I walk in and utter my diagnosis.  It IS a FLYING RODENT.  OH! What is a single gal supposed to do with a FLYING RODENT on the kitchen floor?????????????????????????????
Frankie has a blanket...I don't think a blanket is the best idea.  I won't know if I've picked it up or not and said FLYING RODENT will go flying around and completely freak us both out.

Frankie:  Do you think I should call John?
Me: John?
Frankie: John, our neighbor.
Me:  [Internally]  John?  Why didn't you call JOHN in the first place?????????????????????????
Me:  Naw....but how many single women does it take to catch a bat?

Seriously.  Is that even a joke?  Okay, I digress.

Me:  Do you have a bucket?
Bucket produced in somewhat panic stricken state.

Me:  Do you have a piece of cardboard I can slide under?
Cardboard produced in somewhat panic stricken state.

I approach gingerly making lots of noise--bats don't like noise, right?  I need to ask my 5th grade boys.
Bucket over FLYING RODENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am P.R.O.U.D. of myself!

But, said rodent is still IN the house.
 I slide a piece of cardboard under the bucket, but I catch the leg.  The FLYING RODENT goes balistic.  Oh, dear. This is possibly more than I can handle.

Me:  Poor thing--I caught his leg.  [OMW did I just say "Poor thing" about a FLYING RODENT?????]  Yikes!

I work to get said leg back under the bucket while keeping the cardboard firmly pushed against bucket. I am NOT dealing with a FLYING FLYING RODENT.

Mission accomplished.  Now, to pick UP the bucket and cardboard and FLYING RODENT.
Mission accomplished!  I am P.R.O.U.D. of myself!

I walk carefully out the door up and away from the house. I take a DEEP breath and pick up bucket and fling cardboard (w/o releasing it) AWAY from me.  Said FLYING RODENT squeals in delight--I'm quite sure it was "Why thank you, kind and brave and generous lady" as he flies or jumps or I-don't-know-and-I-don't-care away.

My heart is starting to return to normal though I'm quite sure I just shaved off about 5 years of heartbeats.
I think I need to go shower! Ick!