I moved back into my hurricane ravaged house in May after spending 5 months living out of a suitcase. I AM SO FRIGGING HAPPY TO BE BACK IN MY HOUSE! Leaking roof? Don't care. Porch blown off into the yard? Don't care. Mongooses climbing in through open windows eating all the cat food? Don't care. Giant cracks in the walls? Again, just couldn't care. My sweet little house sits high atop a hill with outrageous views of St. Thomas, St. John, Tortola, & Buck Island. It belonged to my grandparents who built it in the 1940's. Over the years various hurricanes have tried to blow her down, some have come close but we repair, rebuild and hope for the best. Just like people whose entire town gets blown away by a tornado in the Midwest. As soon as the winds die down hey climb up out of their hidey holes, dust themselves off and hope another tornado doesn't come again. Stupid? Definitely. Yes, their town is now a mish mash full of broken stuff, but it's THEIR broken stuff, so they stay no matter what. This island I was born on tops my personal list of totally ridiculous places to live, what with our lunar landscape'esque roadways, left hand driving in right hand driving vehicles, local government that often leaves you saying "Wait. They did what?", West Indian people who are naturally kind of shy but come across as completely rude to the unknowing person...I could go on and on HOWEVER I can guarantee you if you visit here, you will never, never, ever want to leave despite all the brokenness, potholes, shy/rude locals. And hurricanes. Did I mention hurricanes? I just saw somewhere that there are five (count them!) weather systems rolling off the coast of Africa. This is a dicey time of year and with September being the most bestest month for hurricanes ever, I'm just so pleased it is only 2 days away. There is just something magical and other-worldly about this tiny island that allows us to shrug off situations that would drive the average person stark-raving mad. Is it the rum? The beach? The people, an amazing bunch of love able misfits, constantly running around in circles, searching for the Ringmaster.
Sometimes there just isn't enough time in the day to get it all done.