Pardon me while I vent a little

I like to think this has been a largely positive blog, not just an outlet for complaining. Today, though, I need to complain.

I realized this morning that today I have been here for two weeks. While perhaps I should have reacted with the thought that hey, I'm two weeks in and doing great, my actual reaction was more along the lines of that's all? I had hoped that once I got busy and into a routine, time would fly by. These two weeks have definitely not flown anywhere. If they're flying, they're flying in place.

I still have six weeks to go, and today I'm feeling down and questioning what I was thinking getting into this in the first place. And wondering how I'm ever going to make it through.

Everything seems to be getting on my nerves.

I hate the bugs and the complete lack of an attempt to keep them out of the house. The other night a mosquito found its way inside the mosquito net on my bed, and I woke up with bites everywhere including on my neck and face. What kind of mosquito bites your face!? I can't sit downstairs with the family in the evenings because even coated in insect repellent and constantly swatting with a newspaper, it's impossible to keep the bugs away. As I was going to bed, I spotted a beetle in my room. Not surprising, as the door to the terrace right beside my room had been open all day. I killed it and went to get something to clean it up with. When I returned, my father-in-law had kicked it out into the hallway. He said that in the night the ants would come and take it away. When I realized he was serious I felt a little sick.

Yesterday, as my brother-in-law and I got a snack from a roadside shop, I questioned the intelligence of that decision as I watched the flies swarm all around and wondered if the people preparing the food were even remotely clean. Today, as I watched my mother-in-law prepare food in her kitchen, which according to her is the only safe place to get food, I constantly swatted flies away and saw her commit any number of health code violations I'd rather not mention. It's disturbing to think food prepared at home and food prepared at a roadside stand are probably equally dangerous in terms of dirt and bacteria.

Speaking of cooking with my mother-in-law...I've done well up to this point to ignore her misguided comments and passive aggressive bs, but I feel the time is quickly coming when I will snap and respond in anger. She refuses to acknowledge that I do 90% of the cooking in my house including Indian dishes. She assumes my husband does it all no matter how often I tell her to the contrary. It's like she can't comprehend that I might actually take good care of her son. While discussing the fact that my brother-in-law can never get enough salt, I happened to mention that any time I think a dish is missing something, hubby says it needs salt, as though salty is the only flavor in the world. My dear sweet mother-in-law said that's because he doesn't have the heart to tell me the food isn't good, and salt can help mask any bad taste. She said this to my face while smiling! Bitch. Hubby loves my cooking thank you very much. And in all honesty, I prefer both mine and my hubby's cooking to hers. But if you ever tell her I said that I'll hurt you.

As I type this, I can hear my mother-in-law practicing for her classical singing class. Everyone tells me she has such a great singing voice. To me, it sounds like she's killing cats. Even my brother-in-law has the tv blaring and is listening to something on his computer with earphones. In all fairness, pretty much all types of Indian singing that I've been exposed to, whether it's Bollywood songs or hubby's beloved ghazals, sound bad the first time you hear it. Singing voices are not clear and they're apparently not supposed to be. Women's voices are screechy and men's voices sound like they're all lifelong smokers. It's an acquired taste if you didn't grow up with it. But it just reminds me of all the times I'd be singing hymns in church or something and wishing my voice was pure and clear like my mother's. Hers is a great voice. Never once made me think anything was dying.

Like I said, things are just driving me crazy today. I miss my home, my bed, my cat, the relatively safe assumption that nothing I eat is going to make me horribly ill. Most of all I miss my husband. It is not easy to go from waking up beside a person every morning, falling asleep beside them every night, and being able to talk to each other any time you feel like it, to being something like 8,000 miles and 9 and a half hours apart, talking only for a few minutes before he goes to sleep at night and before he starts work in the mornings, and having your in-laws monopolize those brief moments more often than not. Six more weeks is a loooong time.