Blown Fuse

Space heaters, apparently, take a lot of electricity. So much that if you plug two space heaters in at once in my master bedroom, it blows a fuse. I know this. I also know that the fuse box is located in the servant's quarters which is the current residence of our cook, Yashoda. Yet, for some reason I decided to turn two on tonight before sitting down to read a book before going to bed. I'm not sure why I did this, it's not even that cold, maybe I just wanted the stereo effect of warm air being sent my way from two different directions. We've blown fuses in the past and I typically send Lindsay to knock on her door to politely wake her up to reset the fuse box (I mean, I didn't think she'd want me knocking on her door after 11pm at night). After about the third time, Yashoda told Lindsay, "Don't knock on my door, just SMS me." She's a smart lady.

We could punish ourselves and go without electricity until morning; unfortunately, without electricity, the geyser in the bathroom can't heat the water, so the punishment is more than just a few minutes without lights and a night without a space heater. It's also a cold shower.

Don't get me wrong, even me, a completely self-absorbed expat that does very little for himself in the departments of cooking, cleaning, laundry, food purchasing, and transporting, feels more than a slight twinge of guilt when "forced" to wake up someone that helps in so many of those departments.

I get it. I'm a jerk.