I hate feeling tired in beautiful places.

I hate feeling tired at all, but especially when the view outside your window is persistently telling me to feel awake, alive and happy.

I hate that the first three sentences of this post start with the words, “I hate.”

Maybe it’s my newly-rejuvenated coffee dependency and the fact that I’ve only had one cup so far this morning.

Maybe it’s the fruity rum drinks, wine and cerveza from ladies’ night on the town.

Maybe it’s the 5 hours of sleep and the slap in the face when I looked in the mirror this morning and realized why – in fact – they call it beauty sleep, and why – in fact – this applies to me now that I’m 27.

Shit.

So what do I love this morning?

Strange, but I love that it was hard to breathe on our walk to work.  Whether it’s from the large amounts of chile pepper fumes I inhaled while making hot sauce yesterday or never-dulling beauty of the view along the way, I don’t really care.  I love it.  I love it near tears.

I love how happy most of the people here are most of the time – even if we’re usually covered in mud, sweat, mosquito bites or any combination of the 3, it’s really difficult to be unhappy here.

I love that I made one of my favorite hot sauces yesterday with my own bare – actually gloved – hands.  And am making another favorite today – one so garlicky that its aroma, one of my favorites in the world, just might cover up the musty smell from my clothes that never quite finished drying after the last wash.

No, I don’t have a photo of my clothes.

But I do have photos of the hot-sauce making process.  Unfortunately, they’re on my camera.  My camera is at Bec’s place.

I hate that I’m so forgetful.

Shit.

Apparently it’s going to be one of those days.  Maybe I should just go get another damn cup of coffee.