So, Thursday and Friday passed with pretty much nothing notable, weather-wise. And then, just when folks in the Triangle thought it was safe to scoff at what seemed to have been unwarranted meteorologist hype and ensuing citizen panic...the--I don't know, is there a fancy climate term for "back end of the system"?--arrived with a vengeance, and proceeded to dump copious amounts of water on our region over the weekend.
Suddenly all of the charming, docile little streams in the area swelled to resemble more like raging whitewater rivers. Some of them overflowed their banks and flooded nearby meadows, roadways, businesses, and parking lots. In fact, on my way to work on Monday, I witnessed police and a tow truck about a block from my office, rescuing a car that had perhaps unwisely attempted to drive through the inundated street and gotten stuck. I also heard that they had to evacuate an apartment complex right next to that, because of the same creek that had gotten out of hand from the prodigious rainfall. And about a quarter mile in the other direction, a shopping center had temporarily transformed into a lake, with the water encroaching into all of the stores--a week later, they're all still closed, while cleaning up the mess and restoring the spaces.
Of course, I reiterate that none of this even begins to compare to what they suffered in cities like Wilmington and New Bern, where they got pummeled with the full brunt of the storm. The photos and stories that continue to pour in from places closer to the Atlantic are terrifying and heartbreaking. Here, we ended up with, I believe, 9 inches of rain when all was said and done; and school was closed for one more day--with good reason this time, due to the dangerous conditions. But we got off pretty easy on this go-around, and for that, I'm eternally grateful.
Now how about we move on to something a bit more on the light and fluffy side, shall we? Let me first state, for the record, that I consider myself a strong, independent, self-sufficient woman. Of course I'm not claiming that I don't need anyone, ever...I'm merely saying I'm perfectly capable of doing many things for myself. But you guys, there are some tasks I absolutely, categorically REFUSE to undertake, and therefore file them firmly under Not. My. Freakin'. Job.
For example, the other night I marched into the living room, where Husband was peacefully reading, and waited with my arms folded for him to look up. "Yeeeess?" he queried, with a mildly curious expression. "There's a B.A.B. in the kitchen," I announced. And it is to his considerable credit--and also in no small part due to the fact that he's known me now for 23 years--that it took no longer than a couple of beats for him to reply, "Ah. Big-Ass Bug? I'm on it." (Also in the sub-category of "Teamwork Makes the Dream Work"? Or maybe..."Delegate like a...Mother?" Snicker...) Thirty seconds or so later, after a few determined whacks with a large (wipeable) book, and the issue was successfully resolved.
So yeah, that was a win for the Man of the House, for sure. But then...one day this week, he took it upon himself to use one of our 72 new flashlights* (perhaps a slight exaggeration) to conduct an informal inspection of all the ceilings in the house, to identify any damp spots the heavy rains might have caused. He was even so dedicated to this endeavor--and so thorough--as to climb into the attic and have a look around.
When he came back down, he reported that everything appeared dry, which was obviously a huge relief. He then cheerfully added that he'd also discovered something unexpected while checking out the space...namely, a BAT. I gaped at him, astonished at his incomprehensible mixture of apparent enthusiasm and acceptance in the face of this situation. When I recovered sufficiently to marshal my thoughts, I demanded indignantly, "Well? Did you try to catch it?" He had the audacity to appear slightly miffed at this perfectly reasonable suggestion and responded, "Um...noooo. It was SLEEPING!" (In an unmistakable "Duh" tone, like I'd suggested giving it the aforementioned Unwanted Insect Treatment, or something...)
Ay yi yi. As if this in any way explains or excuses the flying rodent's incursion into our home, amiright? I mean, someone needs to let this critter know that we are NOT running a Nature Hotel up there. (Oh, and it's clear that this person would again be "Someone Besides Me"? I thought so...) He went on to sagely predict that it would probably leave...as soon as it stopped raining. Oh....suuuure. Who died and left you an expert on chiroptera, eh? (Yeah, I Googled that sucker. So what? I'm not the one who thinks he knows so much about Barbie the Bat...or Bruno...whatever...)
Anyway, for all I know, it could still be up there, making itself comfortable, having friends over for dinner parties, redecorating in the latest hip nocturnal mammal style. And we're left with many important questions, such as "How did it get in?" and "Who does one contact to (safely, carefully, humanely) remove it?" All of which I'm obviously justified in assigning to Husband, since I was forced to deduct a considerable number of the Spousal Commendation Points he earned for...Six-Legged Creature Dispatching...based on his less-than-satisfactory performance in Bat Wrangling. (Yes, of course there's a scorecard. It's in the Marriage Rules. You can look it up...)
So, that's what's new, fresh, and exciting in our world lately. As we look forward to another week, our Wish List includes: a preview of Autumn, with cooler temps and lower humidity (Pleeeaaase, weather gods?)...a dearth of creepy crawly critters...and one winged-mammal eviction. Yep...business as usual, y'all...ha!
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