I’m bored.

B.O.R.E.D

And I’m at work. I should be working…but my stupid email isn’t working and I keep scanning documents to myself that are not coming through so now I’m sulky on top of being bored.

In general I just have a bad attitude. And I miss the Bahamas. Yeah, I know, I was only there for 3 days. A 1/2 a day, two whole days, and another 1/2 a day. It felt like whirlwind. Was I even really there? Enjoying that balmy ocean breeze and the “Welcome to the island mon”  Bahamian accent that sounds so musical to my American ears?

Our view from the hotel Paradise Island Harbor Resort

Oh, I do love how they talk. I found myself copy-catting them all weekend. Seriously, I wasn’t doing it on purpose to be hoity toity or anything! The sound of the islands just flows right out of ya mouth, like waves and a little happy dance undulating off your tongue. Some people were rude, I’m sure they get tired of tourists, but mostly everyone said welcome, and good morning, and good afternoon, and good night, and how are you, and are you enjoying your stay, to our beaming, goofy, vacation smiles.

I think I needed just one more day of Caribbean bliss. I was ready to come home and squeeze my kiddo and give him his surprise, but really….one more day and I probably would have felt like I really got to “be” in the Bahamas instead of feeling like I blinked and it was over.  😦  😦

Me on the first day back from vacation…

Once I got home I cried. Literally. Like a big ol’ baby. I was exhausted from traveling, and too much drinking, and all I wanted was for one more smiling Bahamian to wish me a perfect afternoon in paradise while I floated in the clearest blue water on earth. Instead I was stressed about money because I just blew my reserve, and privately wishing that someone had actually missed me while I was gone. Other than my son. Because he probably didn’t even realize he missed me….it was his weekend to stay with his dad and I was only gone two extra days.

Haha, speaking of, when I returned looking like a baked pita chip, all brown and salty, with my hair braided in rows on the front half of my head, he didn’t want to hug me. He just looked up at me with a slight crinkle in his brow and an expression that made me think he was worried I was an imposter. “You look like my mom, but are you really my mom??” I asked him if he liked my hair and that brow crinkle deepened, his lips turned down and he said plain and simple, “No.”

Welcome home. No more beach. No more yummy conch fritters. No more Party Cat Cruises and club music.  Just bills. Just work. And reality. And my son who loves me very much but didn’t even want to hug me, lol.