Update

This morning as I stood in the kitchen making some Earl Gray and devouring french silk pie, I heard a scream from where Kelly sat on the couch. I looked over and she had her legs up on the coffee stable and was glaring below her.

"Die, you little fucker. Die! Die! You little bastard, trying to crawl on me," she snarled.

For some reason this sounded familiar. Oh, right, because it was me on Sunday morning. I will once again petition the palmetto bugs to leave our humble abode.

Dear la cucarachas,

We know that it just got very, very cold outside. We know how much this cold snap really sucks. We know that you, little palmettos, might actually die in the cold weather. We are, sorry to say, okay with this. Your time is up, little buggies (big buggies...). We will see you next Spring? Looking forward to four or five months without you!

Fondly,
MTP