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The Cat is Dead and the Washing Machine is Fixed

Bagheera was found dead this morning. In his pressure cooker box lined with a crochet blanket. He was stretched out and his eyes were open. CB and I joked last night that he was walking in the shadows of the valley of death. He probably was.

He was a good cat who had two good days of being a cat before he fell ill. We found a shady spot down the hill and dug a hole and buried him. That area will probably be the animal cemetery please don’t be like Stephen King’s Pet Sematary as I imagine we’ll go through a few of them here.

The IFB washing machine service technician turned up today. Finally.

I first contacted them in early June and the guy got here in early July. Not bad for rural India, I suppose?

I'm just glad I don't have to ask a human to wash our clothes anymore. I hated the plaintive subtext of handing over my dirty clothes to said human. “I’m too educated and privileged to wash my own clothes. Can I pay you to wash mine even if by hand?” As much as I hated this, every time I asked, there would be an Indian who would joyously answer, “Why, yes, of course, even if by hand!”

Because of such joyous Indians, I have never been able to find the joy in the analog washing of my own clothes. For whatever reasons, laundromats are not to be a thing in India. Therefore, I have reduced the incidents of such events to an absolute minimum. Another perk of rural life maybe?

In addition to joyous clothes-washing humans, I'm discovering how much better it is for me to have worries like ensuring the pipe piping water from a stream to our house stays free of mud and boulders after a rain, and protecting our vegetables from hungry wildlife.

I didn't enjoy working in an office. I didn't enjoy the commute to office. I sat in noxious fumes grateful for a car with air conditioning but feeling helpless by the filth outside. I didn't enjoy being forced to endure certain people every day for the lure of a paycheck. I didn't like how so much control with such little power felt. I felt bombarded with commercial messages. I felt powerless.

I experience powerlessness in different ways now. Like a washing machine technician turning up from a centre, 100 kilometres away, a month after a service request was raised. To fix an issue that took 25 minutes to fix. Or watching a cat die because I need to drive him 100 kilometres to a vet. I guess the difference is that I'm yet to be jaded by this.

It's exciting to learn a new set of life skills. Ones that I believe are actual life skills for a life that is being lived and not endured. Life is entwined with death. Just like E's teeny clothes are entwined with my months-worth of laundry.

All to be now washed by a machine and not a human. In a house with a roof scurrying with feline bait.