I’m growing more and more convinced every day that the apocalypse is swiftly approaching.

That, or possibly a Red Sea redux.  And I’m thinking that this fortune cookie (which isn’t EVEN a fortune –  more like an omen) just might have been right!

Case in point: there was that epic hail storm, death of the firstborn when our dog died a few years back, then the most recent plague of pestilence which hath destroyed our grass.  And now, in the past week, it seems we have encountered boils and bugs. I can only imagine what is coming next. Blood in our faucets?

Really, the so-called boils were not that big of a deal. Jude has such sweetly sensitive skin like me. He got heat rash that looked less-than-appealing which got him promptly sent home from school.

But the bugs? Oh guys. I about died.  So here’s what happened –

Sunday, we were sitting in the church service. The pastor came up onto the stage, and being a note-taker, I reached into my purse to grab a pen. I couldn’t feel it, so I finally looked over into my purse and started digging around. As I finally found the pen, I notice something wiggling and I tell you, Internet, it was all I could do to keep from screaming right as the pastor launched into his sermon. There, inside my beautiful bag, was a new friend! A cockroach! Happily ensconced in the fanciest house it has surely ever known! I carefully pushed the purse as far away from me as I could without seeming too obvious. And then the next 30 minutes passed painfully slowly as I thought about the dozen times I had blindly reached into my purse all morning long to grab a pen, or apply some lipstick. I kept furtively looking at the bag, expecting to see the “new friend” creep its way out of the bag and horrify all the other people sitting around us. It was like that time in the 9th grade when I burned my hair  in charred clumps with my curling iron before school, and as it molted off my head all day long, all I could think during 3rd-period Algebra was, “Dear Lord, please don’t let my dead hair fall off my head onto Lee Hand’s lap behind me. My life will be OVERRRRR.”

As the sermon ended and the music began, I whispered into Simon’s ear, “I have to go to the bathroom!” And then looking ridiculously prim, I shimmied outta there holding the bag away from me. Again, without seeming too obvious. I went into the bathroom and promptly freaked out and dumped the entire contents of the bag. But there was no cockroach. Did I dream it? I shook the bag again. And there, in slow motion, flew out the bug. I’m sure it was sad to leave its leathery happy home.

Are you horrified yet? Because I am still cringing from the entire experience. Spiders? Sure. Wasps? Hate ’em, but I can deal with ’em. But cockroaches?!?!?!?! That’s gotta be my kryptonite.

As we walked to Jude’s class to pick him up, I casually said to Simon, “Sooo, you know how I had to go to the bathroom during church?”

“Uhhh… where is this going?”

“Oh, well, it’s because I opened my purse and, oh, you know, FOUND A COCKROACH.”

“WHAT!”

Now listen. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to sit by me in church now. I don’t know that I want to sit by me now!

Now excuse me while I call every exterminator on the planet. And prepare for the coming apocalypse.