Daily Stresses of the Rainforest Lifestyle

Eh... would we call them 'stresses?'

I guess it's more accurate to say, "discomforts in an otherwise hassle-free day."

But everything's relative. We rationally are aware how stress-free our lives are, and we make fun of ourselves - and each other - when we complain about our "discomforts." So much so, in fact, that we began keeping mental track of our "daily stresses list." I'm sure I'm going to look back on this entry and wonder why I ever left Costa Rica for something else. In any regard, I felt the need to finally document it - quite possibly to continue the mockery of our ridiculous lives. What better way to do it than in a poem?

It's the rock climb to get up our base's steep hill;
it's trying to find the Raid for a quick spider kill.
The tube under the sink detaching itself,
it's the little shops that can't break any large bill.

Taxistas get lost and decide to blame you.
The power goes out right after applying shampoo.
The static connection interrupts every call;
it's the house walls you can hear everything through.

Our base's gate gets locked, but only the boss owns a key;
working in the office, I got stung by a bee.
It's the internet dying at the most crucial moments;
it's the all-night Stray Dog Barking Symphony.

It's filing my nails on my skin from bug bites.
Blankets and layers are not enough on cold summer nights.
There's nowhere close to go when you run out of wine;
couch cushions are questionably filled with hundreds of mites.

You lose your clothes to moth holes, washing machines, mold;
you take showers in water that's ridiculously cold.
It's the fear of possible mudslides around;
It's taking time to straighten hair that will never hold.

Dogs may chase me when I go for a run.
My eyes open the moment my room fills with sun.
I may lose food to scurrying mice at night.
But all of this makes rainforest life comparable to none.

I'm going to miss it.