At 8:15 this morning the janitor asks to borrow my phone. He calls in that there's a bat in the custodian closet -- in his bucket, no less. (It was not at the bottom of the bucket, and his little schnoz was sticking out, so he might've still been alive.) That's a new record from start-of-semester to bat-incident. We're off to a roaring start. Or squeaking start. Or shivering-from-the-cold start.
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