Man-nerism

Somethings are meant to be for boys, and clearly I’ve crossed that line before (like belching- I’m really good at that).  But now with “the man” of the house syndrome setting in, I’m realizing how manly I’m not, and how I rely on him to be “the man.”

I’ll spare a few details, however last night at 3 AM we happened to be awake…cough…figure it out.

The fiance remarks quietly, “I don’t think we’re alone.” He proceeds to remain in a long uncomfortable silent pause.

My mind starts to race.  WTF? Is he sensing some supernatural being.  Our dog is sitting in the crate near the bed.  What is he talking about we’re not alone ?

He gets up and states nonchalantly, “I thought I heard a bat flying around.”

WHAT??? How is he so calm?

I must make a note hear that I HATE anything that flies.  Especially birds, June Bugs, ugh-la.  They just make me squirm.  So the idea of a bat flying around in the bedroom, no less, sends me squirming under the covers.

As he’s makes his way back to bed from the bathroom…”Yep, there it is,” he remarks.

I pull all covers and pillows over my body, leaving a small area for me to peer out…which was a mistake.  I see the small fluttering object swooping around the bedroom.  “Get it out” I squeal!

He claims it’s out of the bedroom and closes the bedroom door and heads on a mission to get the bat out of the house.  A manly task, one which I would not brave leaving the many layers of covers to embrace.  Meanwhile, he’s traipsing around the house looking for a bat.  All of the lights in the house are on.  Our Bedroom door is closed and now the puppy is whimpering to get out.  I freakishly think, what if the bat is just hiding in a corner along side the bed, mocking me?  Gasp, Bats carry rabies, what if Brent swats the bat down and Diesel licks something off the floor and gets it?  If he swats it down how is he going to get it out of the house?  All things that I can’t fathom the answer.  I’m on a need to know basis, but I don’t want to know..lalalala

I get all spiritual and pray that “the man” gets it out of the house without much damage, disease, or mess.  I’m now laying in a pool of my own sweat under layers of thick blankets in 80 degree weather, with a jolt of fear sending my body into an overabundance of perspiration.

” Ha, Ha.  You can call me batman.” The fiance gleefully states from the upstairs hallway. “I got him out the door upstairs.” 
*Note: we have an old house with a door upstairs so in the olden days they could shake out the rugs.  Comes in handy for getting flying creatures in the house.

He climbs into bed with a humble sense of pride. I am so thankful that the man of the house takes care of those mannerisms around the house, or clearly I would spend the rest of my life under the covers in bed!

 

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