Today, I stirred my coffee with a pair of scissors.
Here's how it began:
Many moons ago, I was born under a star that decreed that I would be...well...weird. Someone capable of doing much but someone also likely to do nothing. And whatever little I'd do, I wouldn't really do them right.
So, anyway. For several reasons I decided to shift to Pune. My stuff - which is my bed, kitchen utensils, etc. - all of those would be reaching the new flat a couple of days later. However, I had to shift immediately because of some interesting arrangement with the broker and the landlord. When I started from Mumbai, I decided to take the bare minimum that would carry me through the next couple of days. I'd also need to shift out to another place for another 2 or 3 days while I started my new job. In the mean time, the rented place would get sorted out, etc. etc. and then I would move in for good by next weekend. (All of that had made sense to me a few days ago.)
Therefore, I thought and made a list. What would I need for the next few days? Clothes - formals and something to lounge around and sleep in. Comfortable shoes for walking. Towels, napkins, facewash. If the toothpaste doesn't squeeze out from that doggone tube, then a pair of scissors to rip it open. And of course, for the morning cuppa, the materials - a vessel to boil milk and some water in, some container to keep the sugar, the lighter to light the stove with, a cup, wipe cloths to wipe the cup after rinsing it, and also the book I'd peruse as I sipped my sweet, strong coffee.
No flaw in the plan thus far. I reach my flat and impatiently wait for the broker to just hand over the keys and go. But he is sweet enough to take me through the house once again, just to make sure I'd be comfortable staying there alone. It's a semi-furnished place so it looked huge. At least for me.
There's a sofa and two arm chairs. They seem cushy enough. However, they are a difficult brown to co-ordinate anything with. But I'm a big one for curtains. I love buying curtains. Especially those huge, floor-length ones in wispy material and soft prints. They look like they've been speckled with Raphael's paintbrush. Gauzy, dreamy motifs in pastels against transparent whites or creams.
Anyway I got a few curtains - really pretty ones. One set is a light, minty blue and the other one is a thin, soft white one with candy stripes. As soon as I reached the flat, I put them up, admired them for 5 minutes, and then got started on the coffee. So, the water got heated and so did the milk. I shook the right amount of coffee from the coffee jar and did the same with the sugar. I hadn't yet realized what was missing. Then I poured the coffee, closed my eyes in bliss at the rich, earthy fragrance, and then looked around for a spoon.
To any other human being, to anyone else, the necessity of a spoon would be more obvious than the requirement for scissors to tear open tightly wound toothpaste tubes. I wondered, aloud and softly, to myself and God, in wonder and amusement, why I was not like any other human being.
And that's how a perfectly good looking Vega pair of scissors found itself swirling deep, dark brew.
The coffee was good, though. I had it watching the curtains flutter in the wind.
Here's how it began:
Many moons ago, I was born under a star that decreed that I would be...well...weird. Someone capable of doing much but someone also likely to do nothing. And whatever little I'd do, I wouldn't really do them right.
So, anyway. For several reasons I decided to shift to Pune. My stuff - which is my bed, kitchen utensils, etc. - all of those would be reaching the new flat a couple of days later. However, I had to shift immediately because of some interesting arrangement with the broker and the landlord. When I started from Mumbai, I decided to take the bare minimum that would carry me through the next couple of days. I'd also need to shift out to another place for another 2 or 3 days while I started my new job. In the mean time, the rented place would get sorted out, etc. etc. and then I would move in for good by next weekend. (All of that had made sense to me a few days ago.)
Therefore, I thought and made a list. What would I need for the next few days? Clothes - formals and something to lounge around and sleep in. Comfortable shoes for walking. Towels, napkins, facewash. If the toothpaste doesn't squeeze out from that doggone tube, then a pair of scissors to rip it open. And of course, for the morning cuppa, the materials - a vessel to boil milk and some water in, some container to keep the sugar, the lighter to light the stove with, a cup, wipe cloths to wipe the cup after rinsing it, and also the book I'd peruse as I sipped my sweet, strong coffee.
No flaw in the plan thus far. I reach my flat and impatiently wait for the broker to just hand over the keys and go. But he is sweet enough to take me through the house once again, just to make sure I'd be comfortable staying there alone. It's a semi-furnished place so it looked huge. At least for me.
There's a sofa and two arm chairs. They seem cushy enough. However, they are a difficult brown to co-ordinate anything with. But I'm a big one for curtains. I love buying curtains. Especially those huge, floor-length ones in wispy material and soft prints. They look like they've been speckled with Raphael's paintbrush. Gauzy, dreamy motifs in pastels against transparent whites or creams.
Anyway I got a few curtains - really pretty ones. One set is a light, minty blue and the other one is a thin, soft white one with candy stripes. As soon as I reached the flat, I put them up, admired them for 5 minutes, and then got started on the coffee. So, the water got heated and so did the milk. I shook the right amount of coffee from the coffee jar and did the same with the sugar. I hadn't yet realized what was missing. Then I poured the coffee, closed my eyes in bliss at the rich, earthy fragrance, and then looked around for a spoon.
To any other human being, to anyone else, the necessity of a spoon would be more obvious than the requirement for scissors to tear open tightly wound toothpaste tubes. I wondered, aloud and softly, to myself and God, in wonder and amusement, why I was not like any other human being.
And that's how a perfectly good looking Vega pair of scissors found itself swirling deep, dark brew.
The coffee was good, though. I had it watching the curtains flutter in the wind.
Comments
Best of luck in this new phase
and Best of Luck with Pune :)