She continues with the chronicle after a gap of two days. Even the story of her own life bores her.
Today her husband has his weekly off from work. So the two of them will laze about and order lunch. They'll go for walks in the evening, or possibly a movie. He's fun when he's relaxed.
She needs his help with some research she's doing. So maybe they could do that after lunch, instead of busting their eyeballs watching silly movies.
If she wants, she can tell him to make her chai, and he'll do it gladly. He makes good tea. Besides, she generally goes for a second cup an hour after the first.
Today she woke up at 11.30 a.m. As always, he didn't wake her up, quietly answering doors and reading the papers till she stumbled out of bed on her own.
There are too many newspapers to read this morning, all of them quite bleeaarrgghh.
Also, she has finished reading 'Rebecca' for the fifth time.
Now, if only she could rewrite some parts of her own story. Too much rest and not much to do are making her weak.
Showing posts with label housewife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label housewife. Show all posts
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Housewife from Hell - Part I
She wakes up after her husband, makes him his tea and breakfast, waves goodbye when he leaves for work, and makes instant noodles for her lunch.
The moment her tummy's even half full, her eyes begin to close. So it's time for a short nap spanning two hours.
After which she wakes up, makes her second cup of chai for the day, starts writing. There is, as yet, no method to the madness she is writing down, but she persists.
Evening is time for household chores, post seven thirty p.m. Sabzi to be made, rotis to be rolled, sometimes a glass of buttermilk to set aside for him. Then she oils her hair and washes it an hour later.
He never comes home before 11 pm, so she has a lot of time to think and set the house in order. Sometimes she cleans up, other times she thinks.
At times a friend may call, informing her of a job opportunity somewhere. She promises to send her CV and forgets the conversation five seconds later. When she remembers it again, she doesn't send the CV.
All day, she plugs music in her ears to keep out the thoughts. The thoughts don't always go away.
What happens when you have no job, no motivation to look for another one and a bagful of fear of what will be? You get me.
The moment her tummy's even half full, her eyes begin to close. So it's time for a short nap spanning two hours.
After which she wakes up, makes her second cup of chai for the day, starts writing. There is, as yet, no method to the madness she is writing down, but she persists.
Evening is time for household chores, post seven thirty p.m. Sabzi to be made, rotis to be rolled, sometimes a glass of buttermilk to set aside for him. Then she oils her hair and washes it an hour later.
He never comes home before 11 pm, so she has a lot of time to think and set the house in order. Sometimes she cleans up, other times she thinks.
At times a friend may call, informing her of a job opportunity somewhere. She promises to send her CV and forgets the conversation five seconds later. When she remembers it again, she doesn't send the CV.
All day, she plugs music in her ears to keep out the thoughts. The thoughts don't always go away.
What happens when you have no job, no motivation to look for another one and a bagful of fear of what will be? You get me.
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