I swept the crevices of my bathroom/shower today. Had to. Water heater’s broken. Gotta see if I can get a repairman to come. They give you funny looks if you haven’t cleaned your place. Then they spit red paan/saliva juice on your hallway wall as they leave.
Anyway, I was showering the shower of the heatless afterwards when I saw a small, stocky, maybe 1.5-cm-long spider crawling along the wall. Don’t usually see him in those parts – them’s usually the domain of daddy longlegs. The look he gave me told me this weren’t a social call. He was petitioning me for having razed his living quarters.
I gave him the, “What, dude?” look. Then I squinted, “I’m sorry about your place, but what do you want me to do? Societal conventions demand it – those very same ones that have enabled you to be entertained with whiny Hindi music blasting out of speakers across the street at stadium-rocking volume since 6:30 a.m. this morning.
His look told me he remained unsatisfied.
“OK, man,” I gazed back. “I go to work every day, only to find new work. I pull down your house what? Quarterly? Give me a break.”
He hung about, still seeming unconvinced.
So I glanced, “And how much rent you payin’?”
That gets ‘em every time.