From my Facebook, the existential crises of living at the tropics:
It was very hot so we decided to put a roof up on the roof. By the time the men came to fix it, the monsoon had arrived. Today it is cloudy. the men are painting the iron rods. A man stood on the water pipe and broke it. All the water flowed out. I washed the rice with chilled water from the fridge. Now i am hoping that it will not rain on the freshly painted iron rods. The roof is not yet up. It will be up just in time for the rains. I am hoping it survives till next summer.
We had the same problem ourselves two years back, when my parents decided to sneakily circumvent my protests by installing an AC in my room while I was far, far away. The AC was bought towards the end of June. My parents then went on a five-day holiday. I came home at the beginning of August.
And found the AC, in its box, sulking guiltity by my bed.
Welcome back to India, it seemed to say. Oh, my motherland. How I love the whims of your labour-pool. (I do, actually. It lends a touch of the sobering ridiculous to our self-absorbed comfort-chasing sprinting about).