MIDDLE INDIA 4
Dodgybrothers.com, Resident Rats and Opaque Sucker-Toed Mini- Dinosaurs
Who says you can’t have it all
Today I was going to tell you about our electrical issues, here in our guest house room. In anticipation for my speedy keyboard finger fluttering I have made myself a cup coffee and am ready to rumble. Sadly, I have now run out of sugar and milk so it will be off to the cheesy/milkman and cupboard shop this evening, fingers crossed they will be open at 6pm, but I can never be sure. Hey, had a fist pump moment — I have found some tasty chocolate biscuits– called Hide and Seek — suits me fine — they first hide in my coffee (dunk) and seek (bazooka) into my mouth before they become all soggy and limp — no one likes limp biscuits.
Bugger it (Oztraylian for damn) one just broke in half, in my cup, now that sucks. It’s gonna be a mushy glug at the bottom but I’m going to have to drink the damn thing, as I am about to wither into a coffee-less cocoon of a human being, and that is not a pretty picture (no more milk and sugar). First world problems.
Anyway back to dodgybrothers.com electrical work. So all had been going fine. Yeah, the wiring looks pretty dodgy, it’s pretty basic but doesn’t seem too unsafe. I don’t feel I have to be wearing rubber thongs (Oztraylian for feet ones, flip-flops, not bum ones) when flicking light switches for the fear of being fried.
We have giggled at the window, that won’t quite shut, due to the electrical cables fed through the opening en masse (also known as the rat walk — yes, we have a resident rat and the little asshole stole my last bit of Starbucks Biscotti).
The other night, all was quiet, sound asleep, when piddle o’clock came along. I jumped up, well not quite, but ya get the gist. I can see some light from somewhere. Thought it was coming through the tops of the curtains but was half asleep, piddled, flushed, hand washed, jumped back into bed and shut my eyes but kept feeling like something wasn’t quite right.
Mood lighting can become very tiresome
Wearily opened my peeps, to look around, I realised there was a low glow coming from the ceiling. This room has a POSH raised ceiling, you know like that discreet lighting in the little raised square area. Ok, so I’m not very good with building terms — recessed mood lighting — does that sound better?
Now, with eyes wide open, I try to work out where this glow is coming from and realise it was from some sort of strip lighting, lining half of the recessed ceiling. It was pretty easy to work out that the strip was supposed to be around the whole ceiling but, alas, it was not working. There was only half aglow. This was probably a good thing, otherwise it would have been so bright, I might have thought I had been abducted by aliens. For the life of me, I could not find the switch that might turn this light off, don’t worry we did try them all.
Wolf-whistling opaque sucker-toed mini-dinosaurs
Just to digress a fraction, I sorta need to, as the lights and geckos link together. Did you know geckos make funny clicking sounds? I never knew this, until a little while ago, when a friend relayed this interesting critter fact. These Opaque Sucker-Toed Mini-Dinosaurs make a racket and we have a heap here, hanging around our window, using their sucker toes to just dangle about. All a bit sloth-like really. I’m all good with that, they eat mozzies (Oztraylian for mosquitoes) so being in Middle India, where mozzie diseases happen, they can report to work any day and at anytime.
Gerald the Gecko is the main window dude. In fact, it’s been quite interesting watching the “Lifestyles of the Sucker-Toed and Opaque”. Gerald actually stalked and snatched a march fly the other day, which was very helpful, rather him than me. He got a feed and I didn’t get bitten.
During the night, prior to piddle o’clock I had heard old Gerald the Gecko clicking away. He was so loud it had actually awoken me thinking there was some ticking time bomb ready to explode. It struck me as odd, as he usually sits outside, on the window, perving in, vocalising his clickety clicking wolf whistle. As my eyes adjusted to the “mood lighting” I suddenly realised there was this friggin’ BIG GECKO on the ceiling, above my feet. Gerald was not small, he was humongous (Oztraylian for really big). Ffffaaarrrrkkk (Oztraylian for what crows squawk and sounds like a swear word). He was the one clicking, as loud as a Yowie (Oztraylian for a bush monster, yeti) having a little tanty (tantrum) or trying to Woo his Woman.
Squinting, I noticed there was another damn Gecko about 2 feet away on the ceiling. I really, really don’t like slimy, slippery, squirmy things and now had visions of these transparent little darlings landing on my face.
What to do? I was nearly going to wake Buggalugs up, point and demand “Catch that gecko” but then thought better of it. He would be grumpy, and as he sleeps commando, the mental picture wouldn’t be that great. Jumping around the bed, trying to catch my friends off the ceiling, in the depths of the night, starkers (Oztraylian for naked, in his birthday suit) was frightening, if not hilarious.
Thinking on it, we didn’t have anything to catch or hold Gerald and his friend in anyway. Being brave, and knowing this whole experience was about adventure, I decided that his little sucker feet better suck hard and not give way, otherwise it would be a rude awakening for all and I’m sure my reaction would be enough for them to drop their tails and run. Gerald’s mate was a lot thinner, so that makes Gerald the bug hog, I decided that one might be a female and christened her Geraldine.
I resigned myself to the fact we have bedroom guests, pray that those Opaque Sucker-Toed Mini-Dinosaurs would wander back outside, through the window crack, by dawn and that my resident rat would stop scurrying around the place. This didn’t solve the recessed lighting problem. That would have to wait till morning. With a sigh, I pulled the sheet over my head, firstly to hide the light and secondly in case my face was a kamikaze target.
Mentioning the lighting issue to Buggalugs in the morning, he had also noticed it. Oddly, this recessed area hadn’t come on, at all, during the first week in the room, it was diddly squat in that department — it’s a mystery I tell you! Didn’t even know the lighting existed. There was no corresponding switch or anything, that would have made me think “Hhhmmm”. This room might just have a mind of its own.
During the day I managed to report the issue, to the housekeeping man, explaining the light won’t go off.
“Yes Ma’am, I will send a workman.”
Roll onto the next day at 4pm, after another sleepless night, tossing, turning, gecko spotting, mood lighting shining, rat rustling I again spotted the housekeeping man.
“Hey Mate, (Oztraylian for friendly greeting) no one has been past to look at the light, is driving me nuts, can someone please come and check it out?”
This time someone was sent — well 3 workmen — turned up. I pointed and tried to explain the issue, but with language being a problem, decided actions were better than words. It was hard to see the problem in the day light, so with the 3 of them in the room, I made sure all switches were off, closed the curtains so we could all stand in the dark. I could see the apprehension on their faces, but was it apprehension or excitement? Party time? Get the mirror ball out? Yeah Nah (Oztraylian for Yeah sounds like a great idea but Nah it ain’t gonna happen). No chance of party time with this little black duck! This never ending mood lighting is pissing me off (Oztraylian for not happy) and it’s a BAD mood it’s radiating not a jolly, happy, party time mood.
“Ah, I see Ma’am!”
“Yes, we will come back with a ladder!”
They did glance along the ceiling recess, around the ceiling, probably wondering why only one side was lit up. I reiterated -
“I don’t need the light at all, just unscrew, disconnect it or whatever, and please if you can, just turn it off”.
“Yes ma’am we will go and get a ladder”.
Spin the clock another 24 hrs and my 3 little mates returned. (eeeww, just got to the soggy bit at the bottom of my cup — gross).
Anyway, day 3 or 4 (I’ve lost count) boss man comes in — workman comes in — another bloke comes in — shut curtains — shut doors and up the ladder.
“Ah, yes Ma’am, we will fix, but we have to go on the roof.”
Bewdy (Oztraylian for beautiful, wonderful, great). I didn’t care what they did just, please try and work it out. I swear this mood lighting seemed to be getting brighter, each night, and I was now trying to sleep with a pillow on my face, which wasn’t helping my sleep apnoea, just another obstruction to deal with.
They came back down and tried the switches. All good it was finally off. Great, happy little camper, hopefully no geckos on the ceiling and no light coaxing them in.
Fingers a-fluttering frantically
Now, keep in mind all the other switches around the place had been working well — bedside sconce light fittings, overheads, bathroom, were all good. FYI, the power has now just dropped out as my fingers are a-fluttering frantically (say that 10 times really fast). Thank goodness for battery backup.
Yay, I might finally get to sleep and be able to stay asleep. I decided to read my book instead of watching Bear Grylls (as that’s all we have the option of — oh and video hits and MTV). I turned on my beautiful bedside sconce. I will say nothing, moving pictures say it all. Strange it was working well before the recessed mood lighting was fixed.
Buggalugs’ beautiful bedside sconce works well. I can read with a dull light. I wasn’t game to keep using my side. I did think of reporting it but decided “You know what, it’s too hard,” so I will leave it for the next guest to sort. Depends which side of the bed he chooses, he may never know the room has a dodgy sconce ready to induce an epileptic fit. After all, it shouldn’t be too long until we are in our luxury executive villa.
Dressed up and ready to par-tay
My beautiful bedside sconce is still a very valuable addition and has become very handy spot to hang my smalls (bloody big smalls) once I hand wash them. We are now into day 5 of no laundry being returned.
Side tracking to laundry — a man came to the door this morning, I had it ajar. He sticks his head and with excitement announces,
“Oh, laundry Ma’am!” as he could see the basket.
I jump up and grab the other side of the basket replying ,
“No, I don’t think so!”
“But there is some there Ma’am.”
“Yes, but I need all the other stuff back.”
We basket fought for a wee while, jostling back and forth, I then gave in, and let him take it, when he promised,
“Yes, yes will bring this afternoon!”
It’s now 3pm and still nothing. If you could see me, I literally just want to bash my head on the desk — breathe. I have no milk and no sugar, no clothes — I’m a sad coffee-less chrysalis waiting for my next infusion so my beautiful wings can open, flutter and bring beautiful colours into my space.
Anyway on that note, I hope you like my resident rat, Gerald or Geraldine (not sure which one it is). My beautiful recessed ceiling, my strobing sconce (knicker less and undressed), my dressed sconce ready to party, some amazing electrical work around the place. I think that’s it for today. The knickers will have shocked you enough, but I just sort of felt, they had to be included.
Oh, and I got an invitation to go a Children’s Day thingy at the school tomorrow. So that’s a bit exciting. I will go and see what mischief I can get up to and hopefully get to meet some township folk, work out if I can volunteer at the school and might have someone to chat to. Things are looking up.
If you’ve missed MIDDLE INDIA 1,2 and 3, here are the links for you. Best to read them in sequence if you possible can, although each is a story — a comedic drama in itself.
