Let the right one in.

Michael Scott: A woman shouldn't have to be hit by a car to learn that she has rabies.

There was a bat in our house, which Jake caught with a blanket and released outside, breaking all the rules printed on the neon orange flyer given to me by a nurse from the Department of Health and Human Services. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention you're supposed to wear thick rubber gloves and capture the bat in a plastic tub of some sort, since their teeth can pierce through cloth. Then you're supposed to bring the bat in and have it tested for rabies. Oops. Who has the control to think logically when there is a bat in the house?

Recently I listened to an episode of This American Life, the Halloween program in fact, where Ira Glass takes a moment to make a public service announcement about how imperceptible bat bites are, how you can actually sleep through them. This got me (and some concerned friends) in a bit of a panic, but after doing a little more reading I realized this warning was mostly for sound-sleeping young children. I like to think that if a bat bit my face, which was my only exposed skin, that I would feel it. And so that's what I'm going with. No rabies shots for me. The animal control guy (who happened to be at the house replacing squirrel traps) agreed, as did a nurse and my mom. Good enough for me. I'll report back if I feel any numbness, tingling or strange afflictions to sunlight, cats and garlic.

And while I'm on vampires, check out this trailer for an amazing Swedish film, Let the Right One In. A love story with vampires = winning combo.