Lessons from a not-so-good day

I was already having a not-so-good day. See, today our shwenkuru aka Kulu went to be with the Lord. Such news gets sadder when you are far from home. But I was taking comfort in knowing he is truly with the Lord and trying not to be down. Then the seventh housemate just went and spoilt any peace I’d found.

Whenever I’m sad, I love to do chores so dragged my laundry bucket downstairs and started on the heap. Since hand washing is not practical here, what with the rain and the absence of hand washing soap in most stores- I’ve looked, I had to do make do with walking up & down the stairs to load the machine. There must be some relief with taking the stairs several times, right?

When I went to check on the second load, my breathe was knocked out of me. The seventh housemate had taken my clothes out of the machine & placed them on a chair like dirty linen. Hers were spinning away in the machine. Our house has an unwritten rule on laundry. When someone is doing their laundry, they place their laundry bag in front of the machine so everyone can see how long it’ll be before the machine is free. Of you need to do laundry urgently, you ask. Usually the person will let you deal with at least one load – we’re civilised like that.

When I saw the clothes, I said to God, “God, you must really see more grace in me than I have. Also, this is not funny.” I picked my clothes and went to deal with them. Taking the stairs heavily in the hope that the rage I felt would leave me via my feet. Then I saw seventh housemate leaving her room. When I called her name, she ran to the bathroom and locked the door. The coward!

I spooky head and when on with other chores. She was in the kitchen when I went there. You cannot hide in the bathroom forever after all. Instead of confronting her about my clothes, something told me she had prepared for that one, we had a different conversation.

“How are you?” I asked.
“Fine,” she said in that tone that suggested she wanted to be left alone. Hard luck!
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Silence.
“I asked because I wanted to find our if there’s something wrong with your hands. Something that could have stopped you from cleaning after yourself the other night,” I told her. She seemed surprised but smiled that annoying smile.
“I’m not the only one who cooked,” she said.
“True. But you’re the only one who didn’t clean up after herself,” I said, my calm starting to crack.

See the kitchen we, the other housemates, had painstakingly cleaned after the Sunday night fire, was a mess again. Two nights ago, she had cooked up a feast for one that involved grinding spices,pounded yam, several deep fried things and large amounts of palm oil. The other housemates had prepared their meals earlier, and left the kitchen so clean that you couldn’t tell that the kitchen had been used. I went into the kitchen again when the seventh housemate was in the throes of frying and blending and boiled soup from a pack, washing the saucepan afterwards.

Then she had the guts to say she’s not the only one who had cooked. Not the only one, when the counter tops are now spotting spices that missed the blender? When it’s only her dirty pots at the sink? When palm oil is stuck to different parts of the counter tops as if children had been in the kitchen with squirt guns full of the stuff? I lost it!

“But why are you lying through your teeth? Do you take us for children? What kind of wickedness allows you to do the things you do…?” I could have gone on but she ran into the bathroom again. This child!

I had to hit something so I just banged the door and said something about her not being able to hide forever. Then I walked the stairs again and vented to my sisters & another housemate. Then I got down for my quiet time.

By the time I was done, I was relatively calmer. So calm that when I found that the seventh housemate’s laundry was done washing, I didn’t place it in the chair the way she had done with mine. Instead, I walked up to her room, knocked and told her the laundry was done washing. I even asked whether she had another load. She looked shocked but said she pull deal with the laundry right away. Thankfully, the woman who comes to clean the house every other week came by so the dirty kitchen is also handled.

I don’t understand why this girl is as difficult as she is. Or why all this even happened. I just thank God that indeed there’s sufficient grace to deal with it. I might not feel it. But it’s there.