It’s been a long day of social obligation, beaching and manicures. Of family dinners and family expectations. Definitely time for some well deserved shut eye. AC is buck and stuck. Mattress sweet like box lunch. Cedar floors have the house smelling like a Discovery Bay villa. Sheets dried in the sun smelling like solidified sunshine. Cold sheets on burnt crisped ski is what it must feel like to have water poured on you when you’re on fire. Le Sigh. #The #Good #Life.
Lies down. Close eyes. Right as I find the perfect fetal position, at the perfect angle to the AC, a disturbance. Oh f#@! did I lock the front door. Gets up. Turns on (imported) light. Pit pat pat on the (imported) stone tile. Knock into the kitchen table (not imported made by a nice little carpet enter named Joseph). Yup the (imported) door is locked you psychotic obsessive freak go back to bed you have a busy schedule of yoga gym tanning and jewelry bamboozling tomorrow.
Lies down. Closes eyes. But what about the back door? Not trying to get raped tonight. But the bed is so comfy Summer. Summer I don’t know about you but I don’t have time to be kidnapped or murdered right now go and check the back door. Lamp. Door. Table. Floor. It’s locked you pysco path go the fuck to sleep.
Lies down. Closes eyes. But what about the guest room window. It’s a fucking window go the fuck to sleep you have like 5 hours until yoga. Ya but when they robbed your uncles house they sent a child through the bars to open the front door. Sigh, Lamp, door, table, floor. The window is locked. You’re officially losing your shit.
~Noise in the Night~ Oh my god did you hear that. Heart stops and turns to the sub zero temperatures of that Kate Upton Antarctic Sports Illustrated photo shoot. Grabs phone. Oh right I’m only on wifi and I can’t call a soul. wtf do u even dial in this country 911? 119? Even the fucking police number is backward in this rass place. My parents are at their second home of a bohemian cottage in the hills with no signal. Outcomes of survival looking minimal. You know when I said I was going to die alone I pictured it at 80 years old with 15 cat plus I WAS ONLY JOKING I TAKE IT BACK.
Roaming On. PING PING PING PING the sound of a thousand messages coming through. Well now who ever is in the house knows exactly where you are white girl. Well the fuck done. You’d totally be the second person to die in a horror movie cause we only know the black dude is dying first.
~Holds breath for eternity waiting for intruder to make noise~ Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Crickets. Sea water. Sounds of the security calling his 2nd girlfriend in America with a twanging accent asking when she gonna send the money. You know my foriegn friends don’t have nightmares they’re gonna die every night. Huh weird. Must be nice.
Start at the back of the house and check every closet, under every bed, every door, every window, till you get to the front. Do it again, just in case. Cause nothing dampens a potential day of pampering like robbery rape and murder. Ya dig.
It’s 4 am and I think its safe to go to sleep now Sum-lion. I don’t think we’re gonna make it to yoga tomorrow
Am I pissed I don’t get to get my Namaste on – Yes. Do many other people in Jamaica sleep soundly – Yes. Am I paranoid and over dramatic – Yes. Is Jamaica 100% worth feeling like your going to die every night – Hell Yes. Sweet dreams my little Jamrock.