Two nights ago I heard something moving around in the bedroom, rustling things, startling me from a sound sleep. Instantly I was on high alert. I rolled over and shook Earl.
“Earl, there’s something in the room with us. Do you hear it.”
He jerked awake and heaved a sigh as if to say, “Anne, this is crazy.” But just then something swooped down on him and he became a believer. “It’s a bat . . . or maybe a bird,” he said.
“I’m leaving,” I replied. “I’ll be locked in the bathroom while you handle this.” I didn’t wait for a response. I ran from the bedroom and hid in the guest bathroom a safe distance down the hall. From there, I heard Earl open the sliding door and the screen, flip the light switch on and off, and use something (I later learned it was a shirt) to shoo the unwanted guest outside. Then there was silence.
“You can come out now,” Earl said as he stood on the other side of the bathroom door. “It was a bird. And I must say you weren’t very helpful.”
“Yes, I was,” I countered. “I stayed out of the way.”
Last night it happened again, although it was Earl’s turn to waken me.
“Don’t do anything,” I said, “until I’m out of here.”
“I know,” said Earl, as he waited to move into action. “You weren’t any help the time the chipmunk got in the house either.” I didn’t wait for more comments regarding my bravery in the face of household invaders, although I think Earl was muttering something about what I’d do if a burglar showed up.
I think I would still ask to be excused and let Earl handle it. He does better than I in crunch situations.
The thing is: we can’t figure out how these birds got in, as all our windows and doors have screens and our chimney has a grate on top of it. I suggested we sleep with our bedroom door closed tonight and see if it happens again. That would help isolate the problem. I’m also going to call our handyman to scout the attic for possible entry points.
Which brings me to a new revelation: I DO help in these situations. I’m the thinker; Earl’s the doer. We each have our part.
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