Cold Comfort

Did you know I was born and raised in the Caribbean? Cobalt blue skies, yellow sandy beaches and the turquoise, transparent ocean. Swaying palm trees, chilled coconut water and a steady diet of fish caught by you. That’s where I’m from. I left it behind years ago for high-rise buildings and underground trains.

I love it here in New York—nothing compares to the city’s vibe and charisma—but damn it all, it’s been a brutal winter. Normally I wouldn’t be doing my bitch routine regarding the cold—it is what it is and I rather love the snow, but this winter in particular is making me long for the days of cool sea breezes and warm summer rain all year round.

It’s been one storm after another here. Mother Nature refuses to let up and I’ve just about had enough. The other day—Groundhog Day—the rodent? declared only six more weeks of winter. Really? I’m really not sure I can last that long, can’t hold out. I’m freezing my delectable tush off, damn it. Something’s gotta give…wait, isn’t that the name of a movie?

Never you mind, my point is this: if these atrocious weather conditions continue to manifest I’m raising up outta dodge. My bags are packed, flight is on stand-by, bikini is laid out. Got a fruity alcoholic drink with a naked man on the other end calling my name. And he ain’t the mister ;)