I’m no longer in my songtaew-sized studio apartment. I’ve traded in the convenience of living within walking distance of the Old City and the sweets sounds of construction for a glorified camping holiday house. Yeah, I don’t know what the hell I was thinking either.
Day One: Keys are handed over along with last minute details on the cats that I have also inherited with the little cabin in the bamboo woods.
Romeo and Pippin. Romeo sports a bit of a sagging belly and follows me everywhere. (He watches me shower and jumps on my lap when I’m on the toilet.) true to his name, he drives me beep beep bonkers, as I look over at him, he is licking his nether regions.
Pippin is the darker cat who is independent and does his own thing (as a cat should!). But when he wants lovin’ he is very aggressive and demanding. He puts his paws on his hips and gives me the, “Woman, you best give me attention” look. We have an understanding.
The day is spent cleaning, talking with the cats and wrestling with the washer that is possessed by water sprites. And swinging the electric tennis racket in vain hopeless contemptible attempt of killing mosquitoes.
Day Two: The phrase “eaten alive” takes on a new and sweaty meaning, as does lack of curtains. I step out of the shower and into the gaze of a strange man squatting in the distance watching me answer my phone in complete nakedness. Lani is making herself known in the neighborhood.
More cleaning and moving of furniture reveals a large lizard in my bedroom. He is the kind dreaded by Thais, I am sure of it. The ones who makes those awful noises and when cornered become nasty as habits. I hold Romeo up to it. But the damn cat does nothing. When I leave, I tell him that the lizard better be gone by the time I return. Romeo yawns.
Day Three: The woods are as peaceful but not as quiet as you would imagine. The dogs howl with the temple bells and whenever the mood strikes them. The cicadas, crickets, frogs or whatever is out yonder sing their own kind of songs stopping occasionally for a bathroom break and to let the ducks quack. Did I mention that something is living in my roof?
Day Four: The lizard that is entirely too large to be living in my bedroom has reappeared and after pathetic endeavors to coax him out of opened windows, I have decided to name him Fred.
The power goes out after a bamboo shaking thunder storm. I watch the water delivery truck pass by my house after I realize my internet will not be hooked up during the scheduled time. Hanging my hopelessness up like a hat, I get into bed with the cats.
Day Five: Have decided to kick the cats out of the bedroom, it shall be a kitty-free zone since sleep deprecation and large scale irritation has skyrocketed off the music charts.
Neighbor who bakes delivers chocolate croissants, and sourdough breads to my doorstep. What a nice surprise! And since I couldn’t decided what to buy I bought everything on her tray. Water truck unexpectedly shows up in the evening, internet is connected, not yet working but the line is put in!
Day Six: Discovered Fred in two pieces. He is barely alive, I thought he was dead, when I moved him out of my bedroom and chucked him over the fence.
Becoming accustomed to finding lizards and geckos in various poses of despair and death as offered by Romeo and Pippin. Swept a paw or claw of a small rodent into the dustbin this morning. Also getting handy with the electric tennis racket zapping the wasps and bees who insist on coming inside. My arms will be toned and shapely. Well, my left arm.
I’m settling in.