It's just not the same, is it, with a head cold and an aching throat, and sitting in office alone on a Sunday? Nothing's changed in office or even at home, but even the slightest difference in how I kept my papers yesterday and how I find them today is something I take as a personal insult.
Like all other Sundays, this one is also one of those slow, lazy kinds. Maybe three Sundays ago I worked my ass off on the Hyderabad package, but it's too morbid to hope for terror strikes to happen just so that you could keep yourself occupied on a Sunday. There's nothing on the ticker, nothing on other websites, nothing on my mind. One story down and the craving for tea continues, though, with my nose blocked I don't know if it's tea or coffee or something else I'm drinking.
Bleeaarrrghh. Nobody should work on a Sunday, especially us poor souls in the media. It's a holiday everywhere, for Chrissakes', what is the most that can happen in the city? I can confidently say that nothing of note has happened anywhere so far - probably some minister has given off a fart in his sleep or a pavement dweller has his head bashed in with a slab collapse. Either way, nothing worth reporting, unless of course there is a Pune angle to things. Like, you know, the dead pavement dweller was the second cousin of a Pune resident. Or the farting minister actually farted in a "Poo--nay..." refrain.
Sheesh, see what I mean? Working on Sundays is not good for my mental health. Bleeaarrrghhh.