Nothing: Part 5

This is really a post about nothing because nothing happened to me today. At least nothing that I can talk about openly. I can only hint at a feeling of disorientation, at feeling disconcerted. There was a change that seems innocuous enough on the face of it but makes me wonder what deeper intentions, agendas and strategies are at play. Granted, sometimes we read things between the lines that were never really there.

In the end I am sure I feel exactly the same way I felt when I entered my second grade classroom one morning and found that all the classroom furniture was different. The chairs were different, the tables were different and the orientation of the entire room had changed. I remember that it made me uneasy for several days even though it wasn’t something ‘bad’. But hey, how many days of our lives do we actually single out and remember? I remember that one, it was significant enough to be on instant recall for thirty seven years even if it had no impact on how my life turned out.

I was feeling so out of it that even though my co-worker and friend had reminded me about the holiday pizza lunch at work today, I still forgot about it (within minutes of her telling me!) when I felt the first hunger pang.

I walked out in the cold to buy my lunch. Then I settled down and decided to have a calming conversation with my parents, dialled a number that I usually dial on autopilot, only to hear an unfamiliar voice tell me that he wasn’t my Dad and that I had dialled incorrectly. I was baffled! I am certainly not functioning at 100% today.

The fact that it’s a Wednesday makes it worse for me. Understand, I am being really, unreasonably neurotic when I say this. Wednesday night is the night when our garbage needs to be dragged to the curb. The garbage trucks arrive bright and early on Thursday morning.

Every Wednesday, especially in this cold, dark winter, as I am driving back home I cross my fingers and my toes and pray that the hubby would have done the needful. But this is rarely the case and even the suggestion that it get done by him when it needs to be done elicits teeth gritting refusal in favor of postponement of the task to the following week. Such postponement is quite unacceptable to me. So since I have arms, legs, I must travel…to the curb…with garbage bags. An eruption in shrillness being an alternative that doesn’t become a lady like moi.

So I am in the same situation today. Of all the things that I could be thinking about, the one that’s weighing on my mind the most is the presence of ten bags of garbage in the garage that need to be taken to the curb tonight. The weather forecast is chilly and windy and I think I’ve lost my gloves. So I am thinking about an efficient way to do this, with minimal back and forth from garage to curb, probably a 150 ft distance. I’d say it’s the most unsavory task that I get stuck doing. On the bright side…Anoushka has offered some bag dragging and moral support through it all 🙂

We have to make some adjustments afterall, when the spouse is conserving all his energies for something, work-related, work prospecting or what…who knows, the details of it haven’t really been shared. Ostensibly lots of slumber and tons of coffee are required. The only sense I have of his presence in the house lately is a pot of pasta, left on the stove for me to consume when I get home at 8 PM, and the resultant dishes in the sink.

At least I have no reason to hum the Santana tune:

When I come home, baby…
My house is dark and my pots are cold…
You’re hangin’ ’round, baby…

My house is sometimes dark but the pots are rarely cold …

So after the garbage removal, the dishes would have to be next on the cards for me tonight. Moving away from non-stick cookware has its own special joys.

And there’s the metallic taste of stress through it all…

The mountain ranges made out of the molehills in my brain might have to be given their own name soon!

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