It's also where we keep the booze. If I was a bat and it was as cold and icy outside as it was yesterday, I'd hit the nearest liquor cabinet, too.
We've never had bats in the house before (at least, not in this house). The kids were very excited to get to see it because they were asleep during the previous bat episode in New York over the summer.
After much discussion, the leading hypothesis for how the bat got inside was not the chimney (recently capped), or the basement (I scoured it with a flashlight), or the attic (not a single bat to be found in our lonely rafters), but burrowing in the walls and coming in through one of the larger cracks in our aging house. The past decade of neglect has seen various manner of unwanted wildlife find its way inside.
But there is one other possibility I hadn't considered, as Neighbor Husband suggested, which is that Bartholomew the Christmas Bat hitched a ride into the house on our Christmas tree. The very same densely branched tree we were decorating not one hour before I came face-to-face with said bat in the next room. Remember the squirrel scene from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation? It was kind of like that except the bat was just calmly hanging there peering wistfully at barware instead of terrorizing everyone. That is, until I came at him with a Tupperware container.
I will say that capturing a squeaking bat while he bares his sharp teeth at you through the transparent plastic is a little bit stressful. Husband did the honors of flinging him outside where he flew back into the night and hopefully not back into our house. Guess we'll find out tonight.
Needless to say, there were fewer tears shed during that goodbye than for previous pets.