If I were a bat would I want to live here?

No, probably not. You get squashed with a tennis racket.

So here's what happened and then I'll continue my rave about people I hate:
As you know I am sitting at the computer blogging when A. comes flying up the stairs, screaming that there is a bat in the basement.

I run over and slam the basement door. I hear it screeching. I grab the kids, run upstairs into my bedroom, slam the door and lock it. (Bats are notorious for maneuvering door knobs) I call J. who does not give me the sympathy I need. He has to call me back. He can't deal with this right now. FINE!!!! I can handle this. I can be the grown up in this scenario.

I gather some towels to cover the bottom of the door. I kiss my children and tell them I will return and to stay here where it is safe. I tiptoe downstairs. I run and lock the basement door (you would hate for him to sneak up on you because you didn't lock the door...I've seen horror movies) and throw the towels under the door. I race upstairs, grab the kids and get out of the house.

J. calls a couple hours later, harummphing because he has to get this bat. He is acting as though I had forgotten and left the bat gate open and one got in. I DIDN'T DO THIS!!!! He doesn't even understand the danger his son and I were in. We napped on the couches this afternoon with a bat in the house. He could have eaten our faces off while we slept. Does J. seem concerned, NO!!! I hung up on him.

About twenty minutes later he calls again to let me know that it is safe to come home. He has disposed of the intruder. He apologizes for his bad mood. I can forgive.

So we get home, kids are taking a bath. C. is getting dressed. I say to him," Did you fart or is your breath stinky?" He puts his butt in my face and says, "I don't know, how does it smell?"