A Letter to the Batcave

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Dear Batcave,

You have no idea how excited I am to become a superhero.

Spousal Unit named both of the other places we've lived in (The Stick and The Pork Rind, respectively - and that was after we became vegetarians). His tendency was to think of a ridiculous name as quickly as he could, so that the name would be second nature and I wouldn't have a chance at naming it something cool.

I'm telling the truth here, Batcave: for the last year, I've lived in a place called The Pork Rind. I can't wait to live someplace less meaty.

Here are my hopes for you, Batcave. I hope you'll provide a quiet environment with little highway noise. I hope you'll allow us to regulate the heat, so that we can be as cool as we want in summer and in winter (really - I like the heat on low in winter). I hope that our new neighbors will hate drama and, therefore, will spend less time standing out in the yard and screaming at 2 a.m.

I hope you'll defend my laundry in the basement, send soothing breezes through the kitchen when it's warm, have soundproof walls, and help me come into my own as a superhero.

I'm not expecting you to do it all for me, just by nature of being the Batcave. I know I've got to grow my own wings. But if you know of any radioactive spiders in my new neighborhood (preferably non-poisonous), be sure to give them appropriate directions.

Also, a secret compartment or two might be nice. And a cape.

Sincerely,
An occupant who just wants a butler named Alfred,

Allison