Scary things in the attic

About three weeks ago, my Patient Husband took two of the Kiddos on a nine-day visit to two locations over a thousand miles away. (They’re back now, and everything’s fine.) The day before he left, I heard scratching and ticking sounds in my wall.

I did the logical thing: I did not hear that.

The next day, he left and I heard it again in the afternoon. Now, allow me to tell you a bit about the Swamp where I live. Actually, I’ll allow my Patient Husband to tell you about it: “I had no idea how teeming with life it would be.” I’ve mentioned our wildlife before, the rabbits, coyots, hawks, pheasants, snakes, weasles, voles, thousands of birds. I’ve also mentioned that sometimes it tries to come indoors, like the carpenter ants we have to kill again every year.

Ants sound like rain. This sounded like tapping.

We’ve had mice in the house. This didn’t sound like a mouse either. We have bats in our siding, but not in the house. Or so I thought.

And my Patient Husband would be gone for nine days. Clearly I needed to go into the attic and make sure the bats hadn’t gotten inside.

I looked at the attic door. Bwuk bwuk bwuk.

Sometimes you need a shot of courage. I called a friend.

Me: I just need someone to tell me to get over myself and go look in the attic.

Judy: Do you want me to come over there?

Me: And do what? Most likely I’ll find nothing and then I’ll just feel stupid that I bothered you.

Judy: But what if you do find something?

Me: Then we both get attacked in the attic? You come into the attic and drag my mauled body down the steps?

Judy: Well, no. I’d just call 911.

Me: My son can call 911. I just need you to tell me to get over myself.

Judy: Put on long pants and long sleeves and hiking boots.

Me: Already done.

I’m brave. Very brave. After I armored myself in battle gear, I got a flashlight, a box of D-Con and a baseball bat. I told my ten year old how to dial 911 if he heard me screaming.

My ten year old turned to the six year old and proceeded to explain dialing 911. I said, “I want you to do it.” He said, “I’m coming up with you!”

He grabbed a battery-powered Clone Wars gun and followed me up the steps into the attic, firing the gun every few seconds while I crept forward with the baseball bat and the flashlight. The gun was loud. Very loud. He squeezed off sixty million rounds and then declared the area clear for me.

I found a tiny hole in the insulation that might have been a mouse hole, so I poured the D-Con down it. I found no evidence of bats, ants, or flying squirrels.

I did not have to call 911.

Two nights later, the noise was so loud it woke me up.

{to be continued}