First off, Jason Mraz's song, "I'm Yours." I have my sis & Jess to thank for this. We videomail & they sent me a mail yesterday, karaoke-style, to this song. "The sky is yours" "We're just one big family" "Time is short" "Open up your plans and *&!# you're free" "I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted" Perhaps I'm reverting to my middle school years, but there's something about this song that gets to me. Maybe it's watching two ladies I love deeply care enough to send me silly messages, perhaps it's thinking about the common sentiments that people the world-round experience. I watched a video by John Eldredge recently and listened to him highlight how God speaks to us in hundreds of ways. When something pierces our heart, it's time to wake up and pay attention.
The photo illustrates another thing that got to me (though not in a feel-good way). I returned from two weeks in Delhi to find pigeons flying through the air and evidence of their residence everywhere. Yeah, that got to me. As I type, my apartment's maintenance man and his wife are cleaning which brings up another thing that gets to me. A neighbor recommended that I pay them Rs 50 (~$1) for their hour of cleaning. They're scraping pigeon poop off my floor and I pay them $1?! On the other hand, my neighbor is the one who will have to live with raised expectations if I begin paying outside of the acceptable pay scale. On the third proverbial hand, they're not doing such a great job cleaning. I would take another photo of the results but they're still here & I think that would be rude. I've asked him to have another go at it. Why does it always bother me to request that a job be completed well here? And why does it bother me that I'm doing my work and can't be bothered by their little boy pulling things from my drawers, jumping on the beds, and running across cleaned linens -- just in need of a lil attention? Just back from a 40 minute hiatus wherein I paid them Rs 50 and spent the rest of the time cleaning what they didn't clean (bird poop on the floor, on my desk, on my printer, on the cooler). I get really ticked off about these things so -- deep breath, Sarah.
Oh, another thing -- I was locked in my apartment this morning. My roommate locked the door when he left, not realizing I was inside. Not so bad except that I could not unlock it from the inside. I used my leatherman to crank the key -- bad idea because the key got twisted and stuck in the lock. I prayed, "Why, God? You know how much I hate Hyderabad at times and now I'm literally locked in here!" I felt the weight of the past two months come over me as I acted out my despair and frustration. I finally freed my key, got the spare key, and unlocked the door.
As my friend, Sara, would sometimes write, India: 1, Sarah: 0. I'll be back to loving it by this afternoon, I'm sure.
The photo illustrates another thing that got to me (though not in a feel-good way). I returned from two weeks in Delhi to find pigeons flying through the air and evidence of their residence everywhere. Yeah, that got to me. As I type, my apartment's maintenance man and his wife are cleaning which brings up another thing that gets to me. A neighbor recommended that I pay them Rs 50 (~$1) for their hour of cleaning. They're scraping pigeon poop off my floor and I pay them $1?! On the other hand, my neighbor is the one who will have to live with raised expectations if I begin paying outside of the acceptable pay scale. On the third proverbial hand, they're not doing such a great job cleaning. I would take another photo of the results but they're still here & I think that would be rude. I've asked him to have another go at it. Why does it always bother me to request that a job be completed well here? And why does it bother me that I'm doing my work and can't be bothered by their little boy pulling things from my drawers, jumping on the beds, and running across cleaned linens -- just in need of a lil attention? Just back from a 40 minute hiatus wherein I paid them Rs 50 and spent the rest of the time cleaning what they didn't clean (bird poop on the floor, on my desk, on my printer, on the cooler). I get really ticked off about these things so -- deep breath, Sarah.Oh, another thing -- I was locked in my apartment this morning. My roommate locked the door when he left, not realizing I was inside. Not so bad except that I could not unlock it from the inside. I used my leatherman to crank the key -- bad idea because the key got twisted and stuck in the lock. I prayed, "Why, God? You know how much I hate Hyderabad at times and now I'm literally locked in here!" I felt the weight of the past two months come over me as I acted out my despair and frustration. I finally freed my key, got the spare key, and unlocked the door.
As my friend, Sara, would sometimes write, India: 1, Sarah: 0. I'll be back to loving it by this afternoon, I'm sure.
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