The Mop-Up Job

It was too late for me to start the wash myself that day since it was already noon and I knew it would start raining around 3 PM, as it did every day. Dan made pancakes for lunch from a mix purchased at the Embassy Commissary.
“We’re paying her so well,” Dan remarked with frustration. “Is seems like she’s doing everything possible to screw it up.”
“We just don’t know what is going on,” I replied. “Maybe she has a kid with Cystic Fibrosis or something. Maybe she was in an accident and lost a limb on the way here. In any event, we have no clean underwear and there isn’t time to send it all out. No matter what her life circumstances, she can no longer do our wash,” I stated definitively
“What I don’t get,” Dan reflected, “is that if Madam pays her 300 Rupees for 6 days that’s 1800 Rupees a week. Then we give her another 900, that’s half again her salary. Wouldn’t she do whatever it took to preserve that while we are here and earn some extra?”
“Evidently not,” I replied. “It’s probably because we didn’t have change last week,” I continued. “In a sense she has already been paid for this week. If she comes to work then she has to give us 100 Rupees. If she stays home, she already has her money,” I reasoned.
“That’s got to be it,” Dan agreed. “Nobody has any long-term planning in their minds around here,” he concluded shaking his head.

After running I couldn’t face the steep steps down to the hotel. I divided the laundry into three large bags, two for the hotel, and a bag of essentials that I would do myself the next day. During this process Dan and I discussed our options. “Ok, we’re going back to the States in two weeks,” I started. “We can just use the hotel until then. It won’t be so bad if I don’t let it build up, and plus it comes back dry. I can do come undies and things here too.”
“Ok, then when we get back we can ask Malik, Thilak, and our drivers if they know anybody and take it from there,” Dan agreed.

I knew that I really didn’t have that much work to do, a few hours of cleaning and laundry, nothing more than I did every weekend at home. I had podcasts and music to listen to. I knew it felt like scaling Everest because I was depressed. My first run had gone well, but I hadn’t been able to get on the yoga mat and get my mind back together yet. The tasks also hung in my mind as someone else’s job that we had already paid for. Since I didn’t work, and Dan’s paper deadline was fast approaching, I felt that it was out of the question for him to help.

The next day was the first of the month of November and we had to pay rent. As part of a new plan to try and get out of the house more than once a week, we decided we would pay the rent together and then go for a walk down to the hut shop to get bread. Dan had a brick of 32,500 Rupees in denominations of ten for three months of rent in hand as we headed out the door. Neither one of us had any clean underwear to put on under our pants. When we rounded the corner to the downstairs entrance under our patio I saw Daya in the adjacent kitchen building. She smiled and waved to us, but didn’t approach Dan to offer any sort of explanation. She appeared to be in good health and in possession all of her limbs. Standing there commando, I smiled and waved back as I cursed her in my mind, “Bitch could come to work on time for the Madam,” I thought. “But what’s the use of being unpleasant?” I ruminated. We saw Daya every day around the compound and I didn’t want to turn the place into a hostile environment.

Once back in the apartment I knew that if I could focus, I could knock all of the work out of the box before lunch, do yoga, and write the great American novel in the afternoon. I decided that the hand wash must come first to give it maximum sun exposure. Then I’d take the other wash down to the hotel, then clean the bathroom, and then tackle the floors including the dreaded swampy, poorly-draining, mango-leaf strewn patio. Using the need to recharge and synch my iPod as a bridge to get myself on the computer, I then proceeded to get sucked into the internet. Clicking from page to page I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into a hypnotic flea market of handmade items, wasting precious minutes of sun and dry air.

Dan eventually broke the spell, asking me to proofread a section of his paper. After going over the section I resolved to move immediately to the bathroom. As I started scrubbing I started to feel a little clearer. The clothes were dirty and I made them clean. Hanging them up on the line I could see Daya sweeping the mango leaves from the downstairs patio, she smiled and waved again as she dumped her collected mango leaves behind a bush.

After lunch I finished the cleaning in time to do yoga in the afternoon. I have practiced yoga for four years pretty consistently, yet almost every time I step up to the top of my mat, the practice ahead seems insurmountable. Dan stood next to me on his mat, awaiting instructions. Watching him shift his weight and fidget, I knew I could put together a good practice for him. I started my breathing and leaned over into a forward fold. That felt alright, so I stood up and moved into the full sun-salutation, each breath pared to a specific transition or pose.