I admit that I have a tendency to make a lot of hyperbolic claims about things I “can’t live without” in island life, but it is no exaggeration to say that I’d be long gone if it weren’t for my electrocution rackets. Particularly now, when shit has really hit the fan mosquito-wise after our most recent bout of heavy rains, it leaves me to ponder how island folk in the Days of Yore ever survived without them. Suicide/homicide rates must have been significantly higher. I’m afraid of what I would be capable of without a racket through which to channel my murderous mosquito rage. My powerlessness against the unstoppable itchiness would likely lead me to ruin.
The current swarms around my house have led to my racket and me becoming pretty inseparable. My boyfriend came home late from work the other night to find us snuggled in bed together and snapped this pic:
While he wonders if my dependance on the racket has gone a tad too far, I, on the other hand, fantasize about acquiring a third arm so that I could effectively manage my day to day existence without ever having to set the racket down. Too far? Or not far enough?
My rackets give me a sense of control over my fate. Instead of standing in the midst of a horde, flailing my clumsy human paws around impotently, with the racket in hand I am able to zap those little assholes and literally fry the life out of them. The pop and crack of the racket signaling their demise is the most satisfying sound I have ever known.
And so, I’d like to take a moment and give gratitude where gratitude is due. This one’s for you, Racket.
From the moment I wake up, you’re there to protect me.
When I have to leave the screened in safety of the indoors each morning for my outdoor shower, we brave the onslaught together. You minimize the bites my naked body must endure, and I try my best not to get you wet and kill you.
When I am trying to do my makeup and mosquitoes brazenly attempt to bite my face right in front of me, you help me to punish them with the death penalty for being so cavalier.
When my daily workout is already consuming every last scrap of willpower I have as it is, and then some little scoundrel arrives on the scene and threatens to take down the entire enterprise, you’re there to quickly rid us of her irksome presence and keep me strong.
When I head outside multiple times per day to the aviaries to care for my toucans, and the bugs are so bad that I am forced to wear two damn layers of sweatpants & hooded sweatshirts in the 80+ degree heat to protect myself, having you by my side provides me with additional fortitude in knowing that we’ll be able to take out at least 50+ at a time, ending their bloodthirsty mission forever, if we stay focused.
I simply can’t be without you, Racket. Nor can I be without my toucans. So I even trained them to accept your presence and now we can all coexist happily together.
While I work hard all day at my desk and the little buzzfuckers insist on constantly distracting me with their unrelenting assault against my ankles, you intervene, so that I can get back to the task at hand.
And when I’m trying to find some inner peace through my yoga practice, and the mosquitos’ constant “eeeee” whine in my ears threatens me with insanity instead, you stop them in their tracks, and help me get back to my zen.
You make island life worth living, Racket. Thank you for always being there for me. I simply couldn’t go on without you.
Forever yours,
Chrissann
Me and you, and you and me. So happy together…
Current Rock of Residence:
Virgin Gorda, BVI
Island Girl Since:
2006
Originally Hails From:
California
Chrissann’s home rock in the British Virgin Islands feels bigger to her than it actually is. Though after spending five years on a teensy one acre island, the current 13-mile long rock she’s residing on now IS ginormous, at least by comparison. As with everything in the tropics, it’s all about perspective.
Once upon a time she used to care about things like matching her purse to her pumps but these days, any activities that require a bra and shoes go under careful, is-this-even-worth-it consideration. If island life has taught her anything at all, it’s that few things are more rewarding than time spent in the pool with a cocktail in hand.
As the Editor in Chief of this site, she spends her days working from home with her blue-eyed sidekick, Island Dog Diego, writing, editing, and cultivating content in the hopes of bringing some laughter and lightness to her fellow island souls. She recently published her first children’s book, When You’re a Baby Who Lives on a Rock, and is pretty pumped to share it with all of the island mamas out there. Her days off are typically spent boating, hiking, and meeting up with the neighborhood’s imperious roadside goats, who she shamelessly bribes into friendship. While normalcy was never listed as one of her special skills, Caribbean life may indeed be responsible for new levels of madness. She attributes at least a smidge of her insanity to the amount of time she spends talking to drunk people.
If you’re somehow still reading this and feel inclined to find out more about this “Chrissann” of which we speak, you can also take a gander at her eponymous website or follow her daily escapades on Instagram @womanonarock.
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