Holy bat, Batman!

I am afraid of bats. There. I said it. Just thinking about being afraid of bats gives me the creeps.

Yesterday was a beautiful day and I decided I wanted steaks on the grill. I had the grill brush in my hand when I saw a brown object laying on my porch and went to go check it out.

Now I believe men were put on this earth to change my oil, fix my flat tires and kill everything that scares me and/or is icky. So I have no idea WHY I decided to walk up to this "thing" instead of yelling/screaming/screeching for my husband.

Not only did I go to check it out, I used the grill brush that was in my hand to poke it. It turned out to be a dead, brown, nasty looking (and probably blood-sucking) little bat. I am very proud of myself b/c I still didn't scream but I did call for the man of the household to come and dispose of it. Which he did. But not before he looked at me in disbelief that I actually touched it with our only grill brush and was quite upset that we would now not be able to clean the grill. (He had NO concern for the fact that there was a freaking DEAD BAT on my porch!) He spent the evening questioning me on what exactly my reasoning was for using the grill brush. Was I planning on killing it if it was alive? Did I think the grill brush would protect me?

I have to admit I really did not give much thought when I went up and poked it with a utensil that will touch an object that we eat from. However, I think it was completely rational to approach an unknown object armed with a weapon, regardless of what that weapon might be. Plus, it had a sharp, pointy part on the end.

Today I bought a new grill brush or as I like to think of it, my protector. It may not fit in my purse as well as a can of pepper spray but just holding it gives me a sense of power.

Yeah, that's right...move over Batman, Batwoman is here! Or Grill Brush Girl. Haven't quite figured out my superhero name yet.