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Killed By Bill

Killed By Bill

June 18, 2011

My life saving plan to avoid death by debt in the middle east.

There are a thousand things that I don’t understand about living In the Gulf, but what takes the cake is the absurdity of working all your life just to pay bills. It brings to mind this curious picture of a dog chasing its tail. It’s very annoying. We keep talking about simplifying our life but anymore simplifying and you will see a naked family with 2 cats in row at the supermarket aisle. Not a very pleasant sight, but I have gotten used to my naked cats.

Its that time of the month, when I can imagine faceless accountants in those government offices rubbing their hands in glee; in anticipation of the amount of moolah they are going to rake off poor old me. ??Those reckless moments when I soaked in the tub filled to the brim and left the light on in the kitchen overnight to comfort the stupid cats, come back to haunt me every month, without fail. As I dish out the green paper currencies onto the greedy sweaty palms of the Sharjah Water Authority, I regret the water I have drunk from the tap. I curse the cats for having no alternative system of bowel evacuation which will avoid me having to wash their litter boxes.

Hell, I regret having to eat cooked food.

They say that the wise learn from mistakes of others and a fool lives to see his mistakes repeated
. Seeing that the pattern is a monthly one and that there seems to be no easing of the crunch, I have come to the regretful conclusion that I belong firmly to the latter group.

Better late than never.

Thus, holding close all the proverbs some wise soul has quipped to symbolise people who are dimwitted, I have decided to make a change in my life style and my attitude.

I vow to the Gods of SEWA, Etisalat, the rent committee and the educational Institutes that are bent on bending my children’s minds, that I will cut their power at the source.

I have decided to fight back.

Staring tomorrow, I plan to fleece the cats and make our garments out of their fur, thus slashing costs clothing. Since they seem to shed fur on a continuous basis, they will make my family appear to be perpetually dressed in tweed. I think this particular course of action could become a lucrative trade in the coming years.

Changing of underwear in my household will have to pass my boarding school rules
, which means after the normal donning for 2 days, they have to be worn inside out for another 2 days, upon which they have to be worn back to front outside in for 2 days and finally front to back inside out for another couple of days. Afterwards, they should not be washed but used as an effective pest repellant by placing them in the corners of the cupboards.

All use of water for hygiene is going to follow the principle of step farming. This entitles all members of the household to take a bath standing close to each other in height order. The flow of the water due to Newton's law of gravity will ensure maximum cleanliness at minimum water usage. Since the 3 year old daughter falls at the bottom of the bath chain, she will be allowed to soap twice.

Lights are not to be switched on. We will live in a perpetual stage of romance by dining, reading and existing under candlelight. We will spend glorious evenings cooking marshmallows over our lavender scented candles. When we want to reheat our leftovers we will let the cats sit on them to warm them up.

Entertainment will entail coaxing the cats to search for their Whiskas snacks hidden in electrical sockets.

Since I make a living out of catering to other people’s needs (sounds oddly like the world’s oldest profession, doesn’t it?), usage of my transportation is unfortunately necessary. A momentary lapse of sanity resulted in me owning a truck as a vehicle, which gulps petrol like a mallu politician downing his discreet tender coconut water during a hunger strike. Ironically, working is making me poorer. I am seriously considering the possibility of living in the damn SUV, only the self imposed rule of no smoking inside the car stops me.

I propose home education for my son. He will be considered a graduate when he can down 12 shots of tequila, walk to the bathroom and puke in the commode instead of the wash basin.

Next month I hope to see a queue of Arabs at my doorstep, begging me to revert to my old expat excessive way of life, so as to prevent an economical crisis in the Middle East.

I plan to refuse; moreover I intend to publish my endeavor.

I will forge ahead like a pioneer mallu until somebody bribes me to stop. 

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