If you want (a) pet bat(s), that's cool. You can borrow mine.

I got a phone call yesterday informing me that We Have Bats. Not just a bat. Plural bat. Bats. Outside our apartment door, within touching distance. I mean, it'd be one thing if there were Plural Bat hanging out in a location I could not physically reach with my own hand. Sort of like, "Aw. See? We have bats. Up there, where I can't reach."

But no.

It's more like, "Oh. Plural Bat. Crammed into a crevice about six inches from the door. And I can touch them if I want."

My first question, upon finding out we have Plural Bat, was, "Aw? Are they cute?" Because that's what I do, like cute things. And bats are furry, you know, and most times furry equals cute. And that's about the time The Fiance hung up on me because I Am Insane.

Turns out, nope. Not cute at all. In fact, they freak me the hell out. And sure enough, there are two of them nestled in a crevice about four inches to the right of our doorbell. Earlier in the day there were three, apparently. A family of bats just chilling.

And bats have wings, much like butterflies, only more disgusting. And then there's the part about bats having rabies that isn't awesome at all. And now we have Plural Bat Family moving in.

Precious.