Dear Reigning Power/Universe/God,

On behalf of the Linguini Clan, may I respectfully request that, if it’s convenient and wouldn’t screw up plans too, too horribly, that, for awhile at least, you leave us alone.

I submit that we have endured the past few weeks’ buffeting with considerable tolerance and a reasonable amount of patience. There was only one incident of total loss of emotional control which was quickly put to rest.

And through it all, we would like to point out that one person in particular showed a vast amount of tenacity in maintaining his path to his destiny.

So why’d ya have to go and pick on him?

Oh yeah, he’s smiling now. That’s because we spent all night talking him down off the ceiling. Did I mention, Reigning Power/Universe/God, that yesterday was the day before his AP English final? Did I mention that all these little events, the SATs and AP exams, that have been on the periphery of our disaster are key to Heir 2 not having his entire future screwed up?

Now, were You to send plagues of locust and floodwaters into my bedroom would be understandable and -- some would say -- just. And maybe I deserved to hear those chilling words over the phone that set any mother's heart into her throat: "Mom, I've been in an accident." My heart is becoming perfectly accustomed to the trip from chest to throat, back to my chest down to my toes and back again. My heart gets around these days.

And, to his credit, Heir 2 admits this fender bender was his fault. But, as he points out, 3 seconds either way would have eliminated the incident entirely.

Three. Seconds.

So, to You, who control everything, what’s three seconds? Would it have made a huge difference in the fabric of the universe? You couldn’t just take that three seconds and, say, give it to someone who can absorb it – like Oprah or someone?

Just a thought. Goodness knows I don’t want to tick you off any more than apparently we already have.

Respectfully,

Sisiggy