People often doubt the drama that happens at my home, but in reality it is all true, and sometimes, it goes for the gold. The house is very old, and every single day is like a scene from the film The Money Pit. There does not seem to be a day that goes by that something doesn’t pop, explode or fizzle.
It began the day before when I smelled what I thought was a gas leak or a backed up sewer line and local superman plumber Blair White was called in to check it out. After examining everything he opened a door and said,
“Linda, what you’ve got here is a dead mouse somewhere under the furnace or in the walls.”
The internet told me it would take 10 days for the smell to go away and not any amount of Febreeze would help. My bedroom now smells like a bus station restroom, but-
I’ve got a strong nose- I can deal with that.
It has been way too hot for a long time, and never in my life have I had ants in my house. Today I woke up to a huge squadron of them making my cookbooks home. Breakfast was spent gritting my teeth watching the little critters slide from one book to the other finally camping out in the Company’s Coming section. Then, we had an Amityville Horror film version of cluster flies attacking the second floor but–
I’ve got Raid I can deal with this.
This afternoon one of the raccoons who has made his home in one of my roof peaks was seen drinking and swimming in my fountain like he was at a local spa. He would not even budge when he saw me as– my home is his home- and he does not have to pay taxes, nor does he care.
This has been going on forever- I can wait a few more weeks until the Hanet’s from Perth show up to close up the peak.
Tonight Steve phoned me from the kitchen (it’s a big house folks no one hears anything) and says,
“There’s a bat in the kitchen!”
I told him to shut the doors hoping to trap the little sucker in there. Not likely. Fifteen minutes later the bat makes his way to the second floor interrupting America’s Got Talent. We run downstairs and man ourselves with Squash rackets that were expressly made for killing bats and not to play the sport.
We attempt to find him and eventually see him curled up on the floor. Steve hits him and he misses. I scream,”WTH?” (actually you can probably replace the H with another initial). I ask him what his issue is not killing the bat. Seeing he just immigrated here from California he looks at me and says with downcast eyes,
“Well, it was my first bat!”
The bat by this time has disappeared somewhere in that room and no amount of high powered rays from the trusty flashlight can find it. We shut off the TV knowing there will be no watching “Chopped” for us tonight and go down to the kitchen.
Sitting around the kitchen island we notice flashlights beaming at us from the other side of the gate and waving hands. Was it a neighbour? Was it my son Perry, well renowned bat-catcher, coming to save the day? Actually, it was our brave men in blue (OPP) coming to find out if everything was okay. A neighbour had seen the flashlight beams in the TV room and saw the TV shut off off early, called 911, and reported something suspicious going on in our house.
So, after having a good laugh and hearing some good bat-catching tips from our friendly OPP we came back in and I told Steve we had to catch the bat in the morning as we have no catch and release program in this house. His response?
“Okay, but I need my breakfast first as I can’t catch the bat on an empty stomach- and I definitely need my coffee!”
Stay tuned for more episodes- as the fun never stops here.
Neighbour Jennifer Fenwick Irwin– Wasn’t me who called the cops! I met them at your front gate, checking the lock with flashlights! They said good evening to my dog Bindy and I carried on inspecting the fence!