I start typing knowing that I need to finish typing in ten minutes, and get this uploaded in fifteen before I pack and leave. It’s Sunday, apparently Mother’s Day, and the day usually people do not work. I have taken a two-day break to work (of course the weekend). Yes, you heard it right, to work!
Anyone who knows me knows how much I love the silence (probably why I end up dating men who do not speak much, at least when I am around) and how OCD I am (when it comes to getting any work done, and needing my space). So coming back home from Nairobi, and finding my life’s possession scattered on the floor of every room in our new house was not the best way to start the month, or the year ahead of my birthday! (So much for that birthday, no cake, no bed, no peace and well no sense of a birthday to start with. Dylan of course went around the house singing “happy birthday” to himself, and wishing a very happy birthday to everyone other than his mummy! Stubborn boy the kid is turning out to be! I guess we know where that comes from. Anjalee threatens, “You better get that boy of yours to be less stubborn, or I will not let my niece marry him! She believes in child marriages these days, pre-planning for the world’s woes been seen as a wise choice!)
Coming back to the point where I left, before all the brackets came in, the summary is that I had to take a break to work. To find silence, pay a place for that “silence” and then start typing, emailing, reading things people would probably find insane and what not. You get the drift I am sure.
Now time has come back to head back. My room at home is mid-way to becoming a habitable one, and half the belongings dumped on the porch had been cleared. (Yesterday’s finding when I dropped in to have Dylan time). Dylan seemed thrilled to see me, an enthusiasm that subsides when I refuse to give him my phone to watch Barney for half the day. He walks to find his “seeya” (grandpa) his favourite human on the planet.
I have not written much in the last two weeks. Nairobi has been a roller coaster ride in many ways. Fortunately or unfortunately for my blog, the not too consistent internet provider prevented me from ranting about the amount of times I had to climb up and down the stairs to get to my room every time something would go wrong. I think I will save that vent to be documented on another day, or hour.
So happy Mother’s Day to all you mummies! And I dash out to grab muffins for the kid, to find my sanity/insanity, and the power to keep me awake for the next few hours when my OCD hits the ceiling on seeing my life spread across the house (again) accompanied by my loyal partner in crime which helps keep my sanity intact – a good old caffeine filled cup of Café Latte!
It’s decided. I like my room. The four walls that keep me away from what I do not want to see, whose faces I see not the point of seeing. I lay in bed, typing as I do, all the time on mails, on articles and on other forms of communication. But avoiding face-to-face encounters with whom I will have to entertain into conversations. Wondering the point of venturing of outside, meeting those superficial souls who seem not to get me, whom I probably would not see again ever, of whose names I would not remember, I type.
I love my solace, that solitary existence. I love the oblivion where no one else is in existence. I love that little bubble where I believe life could be better. And for this moment it is a bit better.