Some people stress eat, but for me nothing helps ease the stress of this rough patch in Bangalore like making something clean. Standing in my open garage with an electricity stabilizer nicknamed ‘the Volkswagen’ because that’s how big it is, and a half broken dishwasher, I’m feeling like the neighbors in the US who put all their vehicles up on cinder blocks in the front yard. My Bangalore villa is now truly an eye sore, and I feel the need to clean.

When the landlord’s minion tells me that the guy who is supposed to install the TV today is going to take another 48 hours because it is raining (?!?), and the part for the dishwasher will take another 4 days (this is after a month of similar broken promises and delays-my favorite was that the new TV was too expensive and that the landlord wanted to wait for a Diwali sale or try to trade in the unuseable, broken TV for credit towards a new one) I push back. I tell him in a loud voice just barely this side of yelling that this is unacceptable, and that I am done with excuses. Of course to make the situation more ridiculous he speaks Kannada and Hindi exclusively and I only speak English. Thus, my little speech has to be translated by one of the minion’s helpers. I’m seething, but keep calm because this situation is tricky—we are here through Dan’s job and I want to maintain a certain level of decorum so that I don’t get him into any professional trouble, and also I do realize the uselessness of this conversation. (I have to say that throughout all of this upheaval, Dan has been able to stay focused on and deeply committed to his job. Very proud of him!) Anyway, with clenched teeth I thank the minion’s helpers because really it’s not their fault that their boss is ineffective, and turn my back to the group of men gathered in my garage and the drivers who are rubbernecking from my neighbors’ nearby villa driveways, and do what anyone would do with similar feelings of frustration and repressed rage, which is to clean the black Bangalore dust off the shelf in the garage with a handful of baby wipes. Totally normal.

Earlier today my neighbor set up an interview for me with a potential nanny. 10 minutes before the interview a different neighbor frantically called to tell me that this woman I’m about to interview is banned from the neighborhood. Apparently she threatened and harassed my neighbor’s husband once they had to let her go for neglecting their dogs. At this point in the story I lost phone service because it’s raining, but I got the bottom line, which is that I don’t want to hire anyone who brings any sort of drama with them because as we all know, I have my fair share. 30 minutes later the neighbor who set up the interview for me got a call from the potential nanny who told her that this was unfair and that she was going to the police. I want to believe that I’m the kind of person who will give everyone a fair chance, but in this case I feel like I dodged a bullet.

India continues to be a place of overwhelming contradictions. It’s ever so hard and frustrating, while at the same time being so easy and relaxing. House renovation and improvements when you own a home has got to be exhausting, but we have the pleasure of doing them in a developing nation with a rental. Time means something totally different than what we are used to and promises will most likely be broken. As the landlord said to my driver when he complained to him about yet another delay, “What do you expect? This is India, Yar.” Yet, in the midst of this daily chaos, a cook makes me mint, ginger chai and fresh, hot chapati whenever I request it. And yesterday a lady came to my house to give me a massage and facial in my bedroom for the equivalent of 45 US dollars. Although at this point I see these things as being necessities instead of luxuries.

Despite all of the struggles, I’m very happy to be here, even though tonight I will be cleaning thoroughly.