Alternately Titled:

It Hasn’t Rained in 3 Freaking Months – Why the Hell are There Still So Many Mosquitoes?!

I moved from New Jersey to Aruba in November of 2006. Social media blossomed around me as I settled into my island life and eventually gave birth to my miraculous son. However, I’m the chick who didn’t even have a Blackberry until 2014, so for my first few years on the rock, I had zero online presence.

One of my besties dragged me by the proverbial cyber hair from Myspace to Facebook in late 2009; low and behold, I was reunited with my family, friends, classmates I hadn’t thought about in decades, and a few exes I was happy to note were balding.

It had been a particularly dreary winter in NJ. Around, mid-March one year – I believe there was still snow in my newsfeed – I thoughtlessly posted a picture of my son and myself at the Animal Garden. I’m wearing white short shorts, a shoulder baring T-shirt, and a big smile; my son is wearing shorts, a sun shirt, half eyes, and a big smile.

Why wouldn’t we be smiling? It was another beautiful day on Aruba.

But my friends back home were not smiling. They were cold. And sad. A few were mad. My friend Nicole commented, “Screw you and your white shorts… we still have slush on the ground!” That comment was followed by a wink and several kissy faces, but I’ve always doubted the sincerity of those emojis. I took a moment to remember exactly how disgusting slush is and felt bad for my non-island friends.

From that day forward, I vowed to turn over a new palm frond and keep my sun-kissed lifestyle shots to myself during the winter months. I’m not sure any of my friends specifically noticed, but I still somehow felt like I was adding positive karma points to the Universe.

It wasn’t that easy, people. Sometimes my kid did really cute things in pools in December.

This year, around mid-March, I noticed my kitten playing with a toy I didn’t recall buying for her. Upon closer inspection, I discovered it was one of our island’s lovely examples of fauna: a wild, writhing, full body armored centipede. As I was exorcising the demon – I mean, removing the bug from my house – I had an epiphany: that terrifying creature is my slush!

Having to shave 65% of my body all year long is my scraping ice off my windshield with a credit card at 6am because I can’t find my dumb (but useful) scraper thingie. Being confronted by a gaggle of 22 year old, gorgeous, leggy, Dutch tourists in bikinis through the plate glass window of my local Dunkin’ Doughnuts while licking frosting off my fingers is my suddenly 2 hour long snow coated commute. Living in a place where the bugs never die and all the plants want to stab you is my OMG! It is pitch black at 6pm. Why, on Earth, do we still recognize daylight savings time?

This year, I’m not going to observe my period of winter solemnity. I shall post pictures of me vainly posturing my slightly doughnut encrusted body across the white sands of my beloved island with wild (but respectful) abandon. I shall post pictures of children in pools.

However, I can promise my friends back North with absolute certainty that I’ll never be your D-bag friend who posts a screenshot that reads 71°F with the caption, “Brrrr.”

It just doesn’t get that cold here.