Thaddeus

Meet Thaddeus.  I don’t know how I came to give him (her?) this name; it just popped into my head.

 

Thaddeus is my roommate, one of several.  This is strictly a logistical arrangement; we aren’t friends, and there certainly isn’t any funny business going on.  Our partnership is based on mutual trust, respect, and yes, distance.

 

Thaddeus lives in my ‘kitchen,’ which is basically a separate room, at the back of my Kos.  It features a sink, a couple of cabinets, a strange, creepy laundry area (I know it’s a laundry area because the tile floor stops, it drops a few inches, there is a ‘drain’ – really just a hole – in the floor, and 2 clotheslines draped across it), and yes, several roommates, most of whom live up high, where I like them.  I also store my meagre food items in this room – cereal, peanut butter, bread, UHT milk (gross), along with a couple of random dishes.  The only things I do in this room are brush my teeth, and wash my dishes.  Thaddeus lives in the corner next to the sink.  So I hang out with Thaddeus for a few minutes several times per day.

 

In Bali, you’re never far away from nature – it permeates everything.  So I fully expected to have all kinds of roommates no matter what my accommodations.  At home I would flip out if I saw an ant in my house – nature belongs outside, damn it.  But that kind of attitude will just contribute to mental instability in a place like this; you can’t stop it.  You just have to accept that you will have roommates.

 

When I was living in Solo, I had a roommate, similar to Thaddeus, who actually lived in the little corner created by my bed, wall, and headboard.  This will be shocking to many readers as I have been world-famous for my fear & dislike of eight-legged creatures of any kind.

 

However I also do not kill.  Anything.  With the exception of mosquitoes, and possibly earwigs.  So I am forced to make arrangements with my roommates – you stay on your side of the bed, and I’ll stay on mine.  This roommate had high integrity, as I don’t think I ever saw him move more than a few millimetres one way or another.  His home was, after all, an elaborate killing machine, a trap for unsuspecting victims, useless if he went on a road trip to oh, say, my ear.

 

My Solo roomie and I lived in perfect harmony for the entire time I stayed in Solo, over 4 months.  When I pulled my sheets off the bed to have them laundered I needed to do it with great care, so as not to damage the roomie’s living arrangements.  I actually had a moment where I said good-bye to him when I left; I wished him the best, thought to myself how lucky he (she?) had been to have me.  You see, as soon as I left, the cleaning staff would come in, and, well, you can imagine what would happen.

 

It was such a positive arrangement in fact (I wonder how many mosquitoes he ate before they could give me Dengue Fever?) that I practically embraced Thaddeus when I discovered him.  Just next to his web, there is a little hole in the wall from which tiny ants come and go.  Thaddeus is having a field day – there are dozens of little ant corpses under him.  It’s a feast; he has literally doubled in size since I have arrived.  So of course I am pleased by Thaddeus’ presence; he helps keep the ants at bay and away from my food.  Harmony in Nature; Symbiotic Relationships.  Life is good.

 

...But that was yesterday.

 

This morning, Thaddeus was gone.  Our unspoken rule – simply “stay there” – was broken, along with my trust.  Why would Thaddeus leave his smorgasbord?  Why would he threaten the delicate balance we had achieved?  What if he ends up somewhere he is less welcome, like my suitcase, wardrobe, toilet, or ear?  I think Thaddeus got greedy, having grown up in a world of plenty.  He thinks every home he builds will provide him with an ant smorgasbord.  Thaddeus also didn’t think he needed my protection.  Well let me tell you something Thaddeus, if you’re watching:  I will be less accommodating if we meet again.  I feel betrayed; I no longer trust you.  You better stay hidden, away from me and my things, until I go.  Beware the Bule.