Perhaps I should say semi-consciousness. I slept badly for the third consecutive night last night, thanks to the hormone-induced Kafka dreams throughout (or what seemed like throughout). The hormones are out of whack these days for nearly ten days before D-day, and by the time D-day arrives, it feels like my head and innards are a war-zone.
The stuff (read: junk) I ordered with the reward points on the credit card arrived. I felt a little sick when I saw them, as I usually do, when I have bought stuff I don’t need. Even when I didn’t have to pay for them. It seems nauseatingly consumeristic. Of the things I bought, the bedsheets and pillow covers were the only items that I really needed, and if they had not been part of the reward points, I would have paid money to buy them. A single word kept going on loop in my head as I unpacked the boxes – junk junk junk junk.
Today is the kid’s last day of eighth class. Her final exams begin Monday and go on for two weeks. I hate end of academic years because it tells me that the kid is now one class ahead, and one year closer to flying the nest. She can’t wait to grow up, I don’t want her to. But time is quite the dog. She has class-community lunch today, and I made her a truckload of spaghetti. It’s interesting that when she was younger, she would want non-Indian food all the time, now she specifically asks for simple Indian food at home. Yesterday, she asked for vepampoo (neem flower) rasam (which takes about 3 minutes to make), and drank it by the tumblerfuls. Another day in the recent past, she polished a cup of green chilly chutney – neat, not with curd rice or anything. Made me resolve not to make that blessed stuff too often anymore. I can almost imagine ten years into her future as she is at her dorm or grad student house by herself, calling me and asking me how to make vappampoo rasam because she is homesick.
I have an hour’s work today and then I am taking the rest of the day off. I’ll be baking a cake for a 3-year old kid who was brought to school by a parent yesterday, who, for some reason came up to me and said “will you make me cake?”. The parent was amused as well (the kid is her niece, whose mother has been hospitalised and she is taking care of the child).
I will also be finishing up Dirk Gentley and perhaps doing some sketching. Ooooo, I might even take a nap. Whoa. Gotta finish up that article soon.