Suffering is Optional

I moved.

I was going to die, when I got back to my room and saw that cockroaches may sleep a little but a few scurry in the daytime too. A few too many, really. Apparently their lives fall under the dictum "No rest for the wicked."

I said to the guy downstairs at reception, who was very understanding, especially because I was just going to his sister-hotel, the fancier Hotel Pearl Palace, "How do you say cockroach in Hindi?"

Deskclerk: "Cockroach"

Helpful staff: "Hira, you say hira."

Though when I said hira at the other hotel, as in "Possible room with NO HIRA?" and Mr Prakesh looked at me as if I was stoned, so I said "No cockroaches? Please! It wasn't the heat so much but them. They make me scream."

Mr. Prakesh was very nice NOT to say I told you so you foolish, foolish girl, when yesterday you here coming and asking for room, I told you the heat would be too much for you.

Because yesterday I was all bravado: "Hey, no, my family's Italian, I can take the heat, I can handle it, maahn."

He answered "You can tolerate it? Go see the no AC room hotel down the road."

Much like Aesop's Fable, the one about the Ants and the Grasshopper, the moral of this post is: it's a good idea to admit you're wrong when you've been incredibly stupid, but lie about it if it makes you feel better and blame it on the bugs - because there are no fables about cockroaches.