Sappy shit

Certain days are randomly suffused with love. Inexplicably, without justification or warning. I think being ill helps (I can currently feel my body vibrate with every breath); it leaves me depleted, without any energy to focus on the unessential (and therefore irrelevant). So, stripped of all the bullshit that makes up my life I’m a glowing being of love and zen or something like that. Being ill and medicated is also the only way I can get restful sleep apparently. I accidentally slept in a particular fashion about four months ago and now I seem to have been spoilt and rendered unable to get any actual rest on my own. My mind continuously whirrs like it’s been assigned the sole responsibility for solving the relationship between god and man and the universe. My eyes , internet, my poor eyes.

B came home this morning. In all his grown-up, healthy, beautiful tom glory. It was a sight to be seen, internet, all of us crowding around him, making cooing loving noises, getting late for work and not giving a damn. It was just a week ago that my ma had sighed about how she missed him. B’s awesome. He’s the cat with the biggest heart, the nicest person on the planet. He’s the only grown up boy who bothers to come home once every two months just to let us know that he’s fine. That he’s out there doing his own thing, but that he remembers us and feels the need to make a courtesy call to his annoying family every now and then.

In other news, due to certain recent administrative and monetary changes at work I now have a handful of new employees stalking me. Most of them are very nice and quite sweet and make big fervent eyes at me. This sometimes I like very much, it allows me to start my day with my surroundings in sync with my mental state which pictures me constantly walking like this:



But mostly it makes me dart into unnecessary corridors and stairwells, just to avoid having to muster the energy to actually look like I know what I’m doing. However, there is also one very irate new young employee, who is currently not adequately occupied. I can’t help it, internet! The project she’s scheduled on hasn’t started, is refusing to start and there isn’t much to be done about it. But man. She really does not appreciate being kept waiting. I’m constantly being hounded through texts and calls and internal IM for status updates. She wants to know every six hours if there’s been a change, if we have work for her already, and what the fuck is taking us so long. Well she doesn’t exactly say that, but her glowering implies it. And I’m being uncharacteristically nice to her and telling her to be patient. I think I remember feeling similar initial contempt for my industry and its constant dependence on imbecile clients. A simpler time, internet. But since homegirl is so impatient she’s going to get her wish and get some work. Unfortunately for her she’s off to the coal mines and I think that’s my first professional piece of bad karma.

Tchah. All I wanted to do was to sit quietly in one corner and be ignored and allowed to constantly sniffle into my work. Speaking of sniffling, both my grandma and the met department were proven to be totally right about the monsoons. And I’ve come to realize that I too have a meteorological talent. Every time the seasons officially change I fall ill. Like the premature, total tease showers we had in Delhi before the monsoons finally broke had no affect on me whatsoever. You can identify the real deal by the immediate response shown by my immune system.

My hair may still be falling out but I’m happy and I’m in love. What more can I want?