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Dear Oprah,

I know you read my letter about the palmetto bug in Mikey’s and Pierce’s room, and I thought you deserved a follow up what with how gripping the story was.  I know how attached people get to the characters and are truly sad when the story ends, so here is the epilogue buttoning up the lives of these individuals to give you closure.  It will also show you the mysterious ways the universe works.

After that first horrible night staying as far away from Michael’s bed as possible while still being in the room to accompany my children to dreamland, things slowly started getting back to normal.  After all, we did just have our pest control service spray, so surely the bug was dead by now.  I even laid with Mikey in his bed the next night as though nothing horrific ever happened.  I won’t tell you that my skin wasn’t extra itchy with haunted visions of roach antennae tickling my arms and legs as it ran up and down the sheets.  But from the outside, I looked cool and calm.

The days were much like any other, with all of us going about our normal routines.  I have now passed three nights snuggling with my giant babies that can’t get themselves to sleep without mom’s protection from ghosts and zombies.  All was normal in our world, except that the drama caused me to forget my birth control pill two nights in a row.  Thowing back three in one gulp, I said a prayer that I wouldn’t get pregnant or go on a hormonal killing spree.  Both equally horrifying.

After a good night’s sleep, I had my internal alarm clock set to make sure I woke up between 7 and 7:30 to get the boys ready to go to church with Grammy and Papa.  Like the master of internal workings that I am, my eyes popped open at 7:15 as I looked at the atomic clock numbers on my ceiling.  There was also something black on the ceiling right above my face, but my vision was the early morning type of blurry that takes a minute to focus.  My mind was also that type of blurry, but the black thing was moving, so I didn’t have the luxury of taking my sweet time to draw my own conclusions.  Quietly and urgently, as if any sudden movement or sound would make the moving black thing fall on my head (and possibly in my mouth—fears Mikey’s has recently expressed) I poked Greg (sleeping peacefully for not a minute longer) to get up and save me.

The roach was moving along while Greg was getting a wad of wet toilet paper to catch it.  He gingerly smooshed the wad against the ceiling trapping the bug.  Leaving it stuck to the ceiling while we (he) got up the nerve to pick up the chase if it wasn’t underneath, Greg pulled the wet toilet paper down, and there was no sign of it anywhere.  Naturally this meant that it had fallen on to our bed, and now the chase was on as we threw pillows aside, yanked back the covers, and watched it skitter to the nearest dark place.  We had to pull the blankets out of the mattress before we found it, but Greg’s super human grip and wet wad of toilet paper couldn’t stun it into submission.  He had me running for something heavy.  Uhmmm….heavy….heavy….it’s seven in the morning…what’s something heavy.  The iPad?  Probably never get G. to fight a roach battle for me again.  How about a real book?  Okay.  Mother Goose will do the job.  He slammed the book down, thought he killed it, scooped it up in the same wad of toilet paper, threw it in the toilet, and proceeded to do his morning pee on it while it did the back stroke before getting flushed.  Truly, these things will inherit the earth.  In the meantime, the significance of opening my eyes at the exact time a roach is poised over my head for a possible free fall on my face is not lost on me.  Darn universe…giving me exactly what I have been thinking about.  Now I choose to think about lots of money.