I Hate India.

I know the title of this blog post is contrary to everything that I have already written today. But sometimes, I confess, I do think this. And tonight was one of those nights.

My room is often damp, and sometimes smells. Welcome to India. So yesterday I washed all my laundry, took everything off my shelves, and washed them. Tonight I collected my dry clothes, packed for Bombay, made sure my shelf was clean, and proceeded to replace everything onto the shelf.

I turned to put a book into my purse, and when I turned back to my shelf everything – and I mean EVERYTHING – was swarming with baby carpenter ants. Seriously, it was as if something had hatched. I stood, paralyzed, not knowing if I should cry or throw up. [Please not that at this point it’s around midnight, I had just spent the night at Nandini with the kids before they leave tomorrow and I am planning on leaving Visthar by taxi at 3:30 this morning. I am exhausted and emotionally drained.] I was also alone, and could definitely have used some emotional support. So I texted Sid, and thankfully he provided the comic relief I needed to get moving. I threw the cardboard hairbinder box outside, because for some reason they seemed to be most attracted to that. Then I grabbed Ziplock bags (thanks mom for leaving them for me) and proceeded to place all of my clothing inside of them in hopes that, by the time I return on Tuesday night, all of the bugs will have suffocated.

I wiped down the shelf again and again with chlorox wipes until not a single bug was left moving.

When I finally climbed into bed and turned off my light, it was 1:45. But I don’t think I slept; all I remember was swatting imaginary bugs off myself. I actually even found some live ones on my blankets. No joke, they were all over the place. Ew.

It is times like these, and only times like these, when I find myself thinking, “I hate India.”