I'd lost power two days ago because of Irma, and the way I'd spoken about it, bearing in mind there are other people who'd had it worse or who go through worse, it was almost a tragedy. One could interpret my words that way, at any rate.
Realizing that, I'd felt like a wuss. I'd felt like, me having grown up mostly in the United States, having accustomed myself to the conveniences of coming home and having a relatively set routine with relatively no interruptions, I was not adapting well (even though I suppose I somewhat was; my sister had told me not to be hard on myself).
I'd made a Facebook post about marveling that I'd still had some hot water though the power had gone out. The next day I didn't have that fortune. I'd gone to bed early because there was very little to do, and I was conserving my phone's power. I didn't have my podcasts. I had little light to read the few books I'd elected to keep after purging my collection.
I'd felt like the type of American person Jamaicans scorn as being soft and inflexible. I didn't/don't want to be that person. I don't want people thinking I don't or couldn't measure up.
The power returned yesterday, and so continues my life of relative comfort. #firstworldproblems
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