No matter how many times I walk into my office in the morning and see no bats, it never ceases to delight me.
“What an odd thing to be thankful for,” you say?
Well. Clearly, you have never been the victim of bat terrorism.
Yes for no fewer than three years my home was under siege by a cruel band of renegade bats. Outside one’s home bats are helpful creatures consuming several times their own body weight in mosquitoes and other pests every night. Some might even say they are sort of cute and nifty to have around.
Those folks have never had one circling above the bed on Christmas morning, or hanging lazily from a kitchen window shade, or perched clinging to the screen of an open office window.
I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: I have no problem with bats outside my home, but they really don't belong inside.
And even though in a few short weeks we’ll mark the three-year anniversary of bat-free living space here at the money pit, my shoulders still creep up towards my ears and my back muscles tighten ever-so-slightly every morning as I enter the BDO and scan the windows, walls and shadowy corners checking for bats. Because my mind now knows that it’s possible for a bat to be in the office, and thus I will always live with the fear that it could happen again.
This is, I think, the very definition of terrorism; it's not just fear. It’s fear based in the knowledge that something previously unthinkable and horrible could happen. Because once it did.
Fun reference: I love this book.