Okay, so I(we) have moved into what I'm constantly reminding myself to call 'our own place'. The prospect had long been on the cards but had acquired a sudden gravity and urgency over a lazy weekend's yapping between the partners. Boom! We kicked off the project and we found ourselves in our new place within a month.
Most of the few friends I have have already experienced living on their own. I did too but it was so long ago that it renders my memory hazy. Now I live in my own place in my brimming consciousness.
I can say, it's been a smooth ride so far. Thanks to my wife who's made my life easier over the last 2 years, on all fronts.
Apart from this update, there's nothing much to add - except I am afraid there is. It is because I've been busy living a nondescript, middle-aged man's life. With a set routine intercepted by aberrations of indulgence every now and then (from which I've to painfully recover to tread back onto the routine).
Personal goals - their half-baked outcomes; post-dinner evenings spent staring into the nightly darkness, wondering about how to roast the half-baked outcomes further and convincing myself that the desire to roast so adds up to optimism. All this before falling back into the ennui the routine perpetuates.
Purchased and unread books adorning the living room's shelfs but diligently ticked-off lists of films/series on the subscribed streaming platforms - this gives away the details of a lazy, mindless and gluttonous consumer of digital junk I've become.
My wife and I - we daydream as she folds the sheets & does the bed while I sit there juggling between channels hunting the next national scandal in brewing. We daydream about the places we'd want to visit one day and things to do - but we also conjure meticulous Plan Bs in case of a career outage; like opening a chai shop in a tier 2, mountainous town or something underwhelming yet alternatively romantic like that.
Next moment, we talk about the curtains to be bought and their ideal colour to go friendly with the walls. I spring up from my chair, go light one and bit my lips at being so sold-out. That's when she yells that my coffee is ready and steaming. I walk back into a world of sovereign slavery.
Now that's how life these days is. I'll have to go hunt for a new series on Netsucks.
Most of the few friends I have have already experienced living on their own. I did too but it was so long ago that it renders my memory hazy. Now I live in my own place in my brimming consciousness.
I can say, it's been a smooth ride so far. Thanks to my wife who's made my life easier over the last 2 years, on all fronts.
Apart from this update, there's nothing much to add - except I am afraid there is. It is because I've been busy living a nondescript, middle-aged man's life. With a set routine intercepted by aberrations of indulgence every now and then (from which I've to painfully recover to tread back onto the routine).
Personal goals - their half-baked outcomes; post-dinner evenings spent staring into the nightly darkness, wondering about how to roast the half-baked outcomes further and convincing myself that the desire to roast so adds up to optimism. All this before falling back into the ennui the routine perpetuates.
Purchased and unread books adorning the living room's shelfs but diligently ticked-off lists of films/series on the subscribed streaming platforms - this gives away the details of a lazy, mindless and gluttonous consumer of digital junk I've become.
My wife and I - we daydream as she folds the sheets & does the bed while I sit there juggling between channels hunting the next national scandal in brewing. We daydream about the places we'd want to visit one day and things to do - but we also conjure meticulous Plan Bs in case of a career outage; like opening a chai shop in a tier 2, mountainous town or something underwhelming yet alternatively romantic like that.
Next moment, we talk about the curtains to be bought and their ideal colour to go friendly with the walls. I spring up from my chair, go light one and bit my lips at being so sold-out. That's when she yells that my coffee is ready and steaming. I walk back into a world of sovereign slavery.
Now that's how life these days is. I'll have to go hunt for a new series on Netsucks.
I loved those last three paragraphs. To be honest, the last paragraph did not matter much, but the two paragraphs above them - sheer honesty!
ReplyDeleteIf there's anything that's gotta be a post's underlying fabric, I believe it's honesty. But again, being forthcoming about my mindlessness does not make me a virtuous man in myself. Because, honest admissions and honesty are two different things altogether.
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