Sigh.

I can't count how many times in the last four days I've said, "Oh no!"

Our house officially has a bat problem. They are entering the house through the eaves of the attic, and are able to use the spaces of the house to crawl down into the laundry room and the downstairs den. I can hear them rustling in the attic through the bathroom vent. It makes my skin crawl.

At least it's not snakes, or rats, or insects. The house is habitable, and we have a professional coming on Monday to clear them out and seal the house off, only after I delivered a threatening letter to our rental management company this morning. Sometimes you just have to light a fire underneath folks to whom you are just another number on a list of complaints.

I'm so tired, and it's just funny now. Every night I sigh with frustration and hilarity as Emmy looks at the Sesame Street voice-recorded book that Anthony left as a new, sweet present for his little girl.

"The Count is counting bats to fall asleep. One little bat, two little bats, three little bats..."

It'll be hilarious in about a week.

Right now I just want to be in a coma for until then.