Celebratory post child sleeping coffee run. Double espresso. Which will hopefully shore up the bulwark against the tide of fatigue. I am not hopeful. Years of Redbull abuse has fried my adrenal system to the point where this is more like juice. But it’s more about the sentiment. At least according to the narrative I’ve constructed.
I have a bat swarm* outside my kitchen window. I take a nebulous, ill illuminated picture with my phone in an attempt to illustrate the magnitude of the swarm. It feels like a blurry Blackberry throwback and hardly does the throng justice.
*CR1, AC 16.
For some reason it reminds me of the homemade pornography I made in my twenties. Dark, grainy and relatively amateurish. (only this time no one falls off the bed, or has to stop recording to go find burn gel)
The male termites are making their nuptial flight from their burrows after the rain. Although they might be harvester ants. My working knowledge of arthropods is largely limited to crushing them under boot. Suffice to say all the bats in my suburb are currently clustered in a densely packed transylvanian flavoured dyson sphere around my house.
The soundtrack to this event is ‘Hey diddle, diddle the cat and the fiddle…’ which is playing in the background on Netflix. It will make for an amusing backdrop if I have to make a dash for the crucifix* in my go-bag (and the garlic from in amongst the onions) and fight off a pale Romanian Boyar with a penchant for O+.
*what you don’t carry religious iconography incase SHTF? Talk about not covering all the bases. I’m just kidding, my go-bag is basically hollow points and chocolate bars. How does the old adage go? You can have never have enough ammunition. Unless… you’re drowning…. or on fire. Or going through TSA.
To tell you the truth this is not how I imagined my transformative Batman experience going. Glaringly absent is Michael Caine in an English cut chasing me down with a dark green smoothie and dispensing paternal advice about how I’m pushing myself too hard (fighting crime or playing playstation or whatever)
If someone can just point me in the direction of the comment cards, I’d like to complain to the manager.