I had to be dragged kicking and screaming. I offered up a hundred ways we could find a way to just run for it and stay while standing in line at customs. And when the National Security was raised to orange during our lay over, I think I almost had him convinced. However, Roger managed to drag my fatter (yet, tanner) butt home last night.
I’ve got stories (imagine that), photos (duh!!), and good times to share, but for now I need to buckle down with email answering, some loose ends, getting my house to a decent temperature (90 degrees in the office? Really?), laundry, coffee, more coffee (did you know that Jamaicans don’t use cream for their coffee? And that their coffee really isn’t as tasty as they tell you? And that I went through detox from refusing to drink it? And to make it worse they only served Pepsi products??? Coffee and diet coke. The two things that made me give in to coming home), sand out of toes and everything we own…
man I miss that hammock.
More to come. No worries.