Я українкая

Okay, NOW it is truly official. I am a Ukrainian girl. I know that some of my other posts may have alluded to my ongoing assimilation here but this morning something happened that really, I think, means that I have made a rather complete transition. Okay readers, settle down, I am going to ease your suspense :)

It all started with a puddle. Not just an ordinary puddle. This one was special in a number of ways. This puddle refused to conform to the generally held belief that puddles should be round in shape, and located out of doors. Oh no, this puddle wanted to be indoors, more specifically it wanted to live in my kitchen and it didn't want to restrict itself to a tidy (and easy to eliminate) pool under the broken faucet from whence it came. Instead, this highly evolved puddle knew what to do to prolong its slippery life. It decided to expand and snake across my kitchen floor and hide parts of itself under my refrigerator, my heavy cabinets and my kitchen table.

I gathered an arsenal of towels, sponges, mops and even (in one last desperate move) bravely traversed the sodden battlefield to turn off the water source for the whole apartment. Nothing worked. That pesky perseverant puddle just would not quit! HELP! I cried. Come quick! I shouted into the phone. But oh no! Another snag… my landlady is in the hospital…she has just given birth!! Thusly, she cannot come help today but, ‘maybe tomorrow’. Wha? Tomorrow???…I quickly struggle to explain that no, she should really not come try to help me tomorrow after just giving birth! ‘Okay Sarah, tomorrow we will send someone to help you.’

Loyal readers….you may be wondering to yourself just now, ‘what bit about this story is telling me how Ukrainian my dear friend Sarah has become?’ Your confusion is warranted because the part of the story that made me realize I was Ukrainian was what happened at the end of this scene.

This morning I woke up to an early phone call from the sister of my landlady who announced in very rapid Russian that she was standing outside my front door and she had a repairman with her. So I groggily went to open the door so they could help me tame the rouge puddle in my kitchen. Now, in America if a repairman comes to my house I do my very best to stay out of his way but stay close enough to just keep an eye on what is happening. I have even had repairmen come to my apartment here in Ukraine before and that is just want I did. Today, though, was different. As soon as he went to work and she sat down to wait I found myself filling my electric kettle and beginning to arrange some biscuits and dried fruits on a plate. I found myself setting the table with three teacups and asking if they would care for some tea. Then…the part that REALLY proves I am a Ukrainian girl now is that when they both politely declined I KNEW in my head that they were just being polite and that I should ask at least one more time to discern if they really would like some. So, sure enough I poured myself a cup and asked again if they would care for some tea. And…then they both said yes and we all sat down together and had a lovely little breakfast of fruits, biscuits and cashews. The repairman would do a little work and then sit down to sip his tea and then go back to work. This all seemed utterly appropriate at the time. I found myself just sitting at my table thinking about how funny it would be to find myself sitting down to a lovely cup of tea with my repairman in the US. HA! To think, it took a puddle for me to become aware of my cultural assimilation. I told you it was no ordinary puddle ;)