Tag Archives: Housekeeping

177: Alone

27 Jun

A’s at work and I find myself alone at home, and with myself, after a good 26 days. That’s a long, long time. I don’t know what to do with myself, to be honest. I still have a few days of summer break left and I’d love to cash in on them as much as I can. However, wherever I look, there’s a house that’s screaming to be cleaned and looked after. The one thing I despise is unpacking and resetting my life to its routine. If I know myself, I will let the bags be till I really need to keep them away or till I can’t stand the sight of them anymore; whichever happens first. I suffer from a not so rare form of laziness that just does not permit me to act swiftly in these matters. The sight of an unkempt house irks me no end, however the inertia to do anything about it is always greater than this feeling. Therefore I do the inevitable – turn a blind eye towards the suitcase and the bags that are lying in an almost askance fashion, right.in.my.living.room.


But heyyyy tv shows and tandoori chicken, I’ve missed youuuu.


149: A Day In The Lives Of Most Of Us

29 May

I woke up very early for a Sunday. Given that I had to go in to work as well, it felt oddly fine to get out of bed before 7am; after all, there’d just be more time to do the things I’d wanted to do. Sunday mornings, according to me, ought to be spent savouring the best the weekend has to offer – it’s quiet, it’s peaceful, it’s pleasant, it’s the calm you need before the rush of yet another week begins. Therefore, in order for my Sunday to be perfect, it needs to be hearty in a subtle, non-overpowering way. For that, I have always imagined either sipping my tea whilst inhaling the aromas of a freshly baked cake rising in the oven or while digging into said warm cake as I have my tea. There’d also be the ambient sounds of chirping birds, the rustle of a newspaper, the crack of a biscuit or two (though they don’t really feature in this act when there’s cake around), minimal conversation, and perhaps the subtle seduction of a guitar playing in the background as well. I achieved some of this yesterday; except there wasn’t any cake fluffing up in the oven because I’d run out of baking powder and hadn’t bothered remembering to get a new bottle. I sought the company of my blog instead, when I still had tea to drink and was done with my papers.

Today was a different set-up. It did involve the appropriation of my Sunday morning fantasies, except, it looked and felt a little like this; something that may be all too familiar to you as well.

Please note that this is the dream I was trying to achieve – sipping on my cup of tea with A, while reading the newspaper in the ambience of chirping birds and the aroma of a cake.

I woke up and by default put on some water to boil for tea. In the meantime, I got the ingredients for my cake ready, and was just about to start on this process when; and I will use the now atrociously common phrase “but first let me…” (not take a selfie, but…)

…add milk to this boiling water for my tea.
…scoop this cream that’s collected on top of this bowl of milk and keep it aside.
…gather all the cream I’ve been collecting and make some ghee (clarified butter) out of it, since I already have the cream at hand.
…turn the tea off (it was done by then and was listlessly boiling away and becoming too strong for our liking)
…get the process of ghee-making started
…put my cake batter together
…oil my hair so I can let it rest while I have my tea, leaving me with enough time to wash it once tea is done.
…turn the tea back on (it had cooled down by now)
…wake A up, because I’ve become his alarm clock now.
…get our tea and biscuits on the table (the cake was in the oven)
…say hello to my plants which are now outside my house (as A opened the door to get the newspaper)
…read while I have my tea
…but wait, let me Instagram this perfect moment
…skim the ghee off the kadhai (wok)
…enjoy my tea-time. Babska, enjoy the present moment, always.

This is endless. This happens to each of us. This has become a regular feature of my life which, if given precedence over everything else, takes over my ability to do one thing at a time (is that necessarily a bad thing?!, you’d ask), or anything else that I might wish to do (like sleep, for example).

Some may call it the ants-in-my-pants syndrome; I just call it the this-domestication-gives-two-fucks-about-living-life-in-the-moment. Sigh.

Having said that, I did end up having my (still) hot tea with biscuits, as I instagrammed a photograph and then proceeded on to read, while enjoying the ambience of birds, the rustle of trees, the shuffle of the newspaper, and the smell of freshly baked cake and homemade ghee that was bubbling away, all in the company of A. I hope you have a wonderful week ahead, and a great Monday today. :)

66: And We’re Marching On!

7 Mar

I find the need to use an exclamation mark in the title because March has been all about that – no time to stop, no time to think, and certainly no time to dream. Life hasn’t gotten seriously busy like it has for many others who hold a job, keep a house, look after their family, and so on. When I think it’s getting a little too much, or when it feels like I’m bordering on feeling overwhelmed; panicked, if you will, I take a moment and look at what everyone else around me must be going through. We may lead different lives, have different priorities and agendas, but we’re all in it, and heading somewhere. The only thing is that the rest of them all make it look effortless and just so in their stride – family? done, school work? done, cooking? done, housekeeping? done, husbands? done, keeping it all together and showing up? totally done.

Finding my feet in this newfound routine never was going to happen in a week, or two weeks, even. Because just when you think you have it all under control, when you’ve checked every task off your list and are ready to finish the final chore before calling it a day, your internet decides to take a break indefinitely; only appearing in bursts like a mindfuck tease you just don’t need.

But, we’re marching on, because we must.

45: Travelling Then, And Now

14 Feb

Travel back then meant being excited right from when the trip was planned all the way till we said our byes to each other once our return journey was done and dusted. Travelling back then also meant waiting with more impatience and fervour than with bated breath. I used to especially love the entire process of packing my bags once I’d figured out whatever it is that I wanted to take along with me. Earlier on, it also used to involve picking the best mixed tapes to keep me company. Later when tapes gave way to discmen, MP3 players and then onto just a playlist, it still did matter what got on to a holiday and travel list, and what didn’t. All in all, there was a lot to do and it was done with a zeal and energy which was contagious.

Today is a different story. Travel today means to ensure everything is in place, taken care of, organized, and settled before I can even begin with my packing. By the end of it all, I really want to get done with the day, get a good night’s sleep and proceed on to D-Day. I don’t really enjoy packing anymore, unpacking even more. Maybe I’m just inherently lazy. And I procrastinate like crazy – a lot of what can be done earlier is kept till the last minute, such as – getting our laundry done, clearing the fridge out, getting pre-cooked meals in place, and what have you. All this looks so idealistic and pretty in mind; but seldom is achieved.

I remember the first time I left my marital home – I’d gone out of my way to ensure A had enough and more to eat. Of course he regressed to his bachelor days leaving more of it to lie in the fridge, which back then was surprising, but today I’m thankful…because I don’t have to do as much anymore. It’s easier to draw the line, go on a holiday, and not think too much about the many things I should’ve, could’ve or ought to have done. But here I am, ready for some travel (my bags are still not packed), but more at ease than when I first got married. The housework’s more or less taken care of, and I’ve left the rest up to A to handle…equal responsibilities no? *evil grin*

During this time I hope to not be as MIA as last week, and I hope to be more disciplined. But the thing about travelling is just that – there’s no time to do the regular stuff. :P All I really can think about at this very moment is to get into bed and catch a wink or two before it’s time for the next lot of stuff that needs wrapping up before the lady of the house puts her heels up. :)

I’ll see you on the other side, dear reader. A very happy Valentine’s Day to you too. :)

33: Cupboard Chronicles

2 Feb

The maths geek in me, not, is certainly going to lose track of time and days, not because I’m swamped and too busy to notice, but because my day tracker has gone past the 31 mark. To elaborate, I found myself feeling a little disoriented when my posts began with 32 onward, because a month can have only 31 days as of now, and because anything that breaks the norm, makes me feel all over the place. How will I track which date I’m on from now on, was the first thing I exclaimed at, when February rolled in. Talk about being a “number geek”, and about being disillusioned, right?

Before I really, actually begin, I’d like for you to note that this is a very off the top, random post. Please feel free to not read it because it’s about matters of great world importance, such as my cupboard. Thank you.

Winter is on its last leg for real now. This means that I’ve to do the one thing that I really, really, really despise doing – sorting clothes, and preparing for the next season. Doing this is something that’s new to me because I’ve spent 98% of my life in a place that needed warm and light clothes year round. However, that isn’t the case now, because I live in a city whose weather patterns are extreme. When it’s winter, you cannot wear spring or summer clothing. And when it’s summer, you cannot think of wearing anything at all. Therefore, as with all things I despise, I procrastinated it till the nth moment, which was yesterday. Folding clothes, sorting cupboards, and doing everything else that falls under this category of domestic life is something someone would ideally throw my way if I were being punished – pity me, because I really do not like it. The excitement to sort my cupboard, whenever that arises, often fizzles out just at the time when I’ve taken every single thing out of my cupboard due to said excitement. You know how this story ends no? It all gets shoved right back in after a copious amount of time is spent either staring at the mess (hatefully), avoiding the mess, sitting in the middle of the mess, or just pretending like this didn’t happen to me. The entire purpose of “cleaning” and “sorting” out my cupboard, is therefore, and irrevocably, lost. Always.

The other peculiarity, and tragedy, I’d say, is the irony that is my cupboard and its contents. I almost never find something “decent” to wear, and/or always lament about how I don’t have enough to wear when I’ve to step out. However, when I open those very same doors on cleaning day, a sea of what apparently, and most certainly are, only clothes, fall out. It’s astounding how a) I’m so ungrateful, b) I keep my clothes so nonchalantly (the answer lies in the para above), and c) I’m a serial hoarder. I will not inflict upon your sanity the madness that comprises my almirah’s contents, but let it be known that I’ve socks that I probably never wore because what if I feel cold and need them, stoles that I’ve never worn because what if an opportunity arises, and other random shit that I’ve probably hardly used because what if they come in handy some freakin day? Anyway, the paradox of this pandora’s box is perplexing and definitely pissing off.

Of course I dumped everything everywhere, all over again, yesterday. My winter clothes are mixed with my summer clothes, my woollens are where my t-shirts should be, and my thermals have now been kept with such a haphazard attitude that I don’t know where they are anymore. What should be in my cupboard is in my suitcase, what should be in a trunk is in my cupboard, and what should be in my cupboard is misplaced, because I couldn’t find it today. What I’m trying to say is that I’d had enough, as usual, and that all the symptoms which are always an accomplice to this situation, arrived in time. I began feeling irritable, hungry, tired, cranky, disgusted; haha you name it, and it was probably present. I also figured that when the moment had passed that I would do a couple of things; namely – a) give away whatever I wasn’t using – but what, is still elusive, b) write about this insanity that plagues me, and c) seriously ask/request/beg for a genie.

The Week So Far

16 Sep

Just like how most things are too good to be true, so was this 10-day stint with my maid who ever so randomly decided to leave and head back to her village. Packed with her 10-day fee and what I think was a fraction of reluctance (to make myself feel better), though overshadowed by her determination to be with her pregnant daughter-in-law (TMI, I know), she left. In these 10 days, she told me her story whilst halfheartedly sweeping her worries away with some of the dust her listless brooming caught. Once a farmer with land and a house to her name, she made her way to the city with no land and some money to help her son recover from an illness whose treatment apparently took all her land’s earnings away. But like most, if not all mothers, she was happier to see her son illness-free than armed with a few bigha of zameen. She’d never worked as a maid in anyone else’s house before, and so these past few days were filled with training her to clean my house. She picked up everything quickly, like most of us women do. Dulari was such a help even though she really sucked so bad at washing the dishes. Anyhoo. She has gone. And I’m back to doing the house work on my own. I won’t deny feeling gratified by my efforts – not that I’m great at housekeeping or highly motivated to keep up a sparkling job; but I also will not deny the effort it takes to keep a place the way you want it to be kept. After some very pumped up I can do this and I should do this because it is my space, I have decided to not genie clean the house every day. Just cannot able to. I cannot express how super grateful I am to have this absent from my list of obsessions.

Somewhere in the middle of all this humdrum and excitement and motivation which evaporated before I could wallow in it, I also seem to have made my back sore. I suspect it was carrying that evil, full bucket of water that did the trick. Back when I used to gym, I was one of those suckers whose favourite days were stretch days. Haha! I still love stretch time the most. It was then that I’d get an added hand to help me work on my back which really made all the difference. I have been craving a back massage ever since not just because it’s the most amazing feeling ever but because I can sense all that tension and knotting bundled together into what has become a rather sore and painful situation. It was just the other day when I was ruing over the years of strength training I’d received back in the day and how it feels like forever since I ran at consistently fast speeds and could lift 40 kilos or more on my shoulders. I’m thinking this is a sign to get my act together.

It has been three days since I began actively going for walks again. I can see the stark difference between then and now, and that’s the grief about breaking a routine. But I’m happy to have started and let’s see how this goes. Day 1 featured some amount of walking, a shoe bite, some leg exercises courtesy heightened motivation and excitement – endorphins!! Day 2 involved a much slower and shorter walk courtesy said shoe bite and the after effects of Day 1’s extra workout excitement. Day 2 also saw some impromptu beer and fries. Clearly I don’t need a designated cheat day. Day 3, which is today, had me wake up in a scramble because I couldn’t switch off my default AM alarm thanks to a software update. With a destroyed AM sleep, I decided to head out for a stroll and I promise mornings are just the best time of the day IF one wakes up to partake in its exclusivity. It takes what seems to be a strong will and perennial motivation; neither of which I really have a great reserve of.

Because I have been updating Instagram with these walk posts, Dr. Batra and his team has taken it upon them to start sending me messages and ads regarding weight loss, hair fall and wrinkled skin. Hahaha! I used to once advertise and target innocent people with ads…now karma seems to be getting back at me. Not only do these pieces of junk linger around unnecessarily even after being reported, but they seem to attack you with a newfound zeal if God forbid you even touch one of their ads by mistake. A list ranging from the world’s Pipa Bellas, Zivames – oh dear God, Zivame!, Dr. Batras and other what have yous, has invaded my space and now claims to be a part of my online activity record. The bane of these things is not lost upon me.

In other news, the music I once used to listen to, came right back to me ever since music has begun keeping me company the entire day. My picks used to almost always be minimally worded, calming and easy-flowing tracks which could help me ease into my early work mornings back in the day. Some of them I loved and still love are:

I love the pace and feel of this track, which somehow got lost and stashed away amid newer discoveries.

This one always, always, always made me feel cheerful, motivated and ready to take on the day when I’d cruise to work before 6am.

This piece of art was a joy and still is on my playlist; one that I turn to when I want to slow things down to a pace that feels both easy and promising. I love it. I hope you like them too, my dearest reader!

Hear them more for their melodies, than their words.

But because today is Friday, I’m on these two at the moment:


Have an upbeat Friday, friends!

Brand New Days

12 Sep

I love that every day is a new day and that it is synonymous with feeling hopeful about everything in general. Being more philosophically inclined than I had ever imagined myself to be, or so I think/imagine – please feel free to correct this misnomer – I’m of the opinion that even my posts reflect more philosophy than necessary. I try to curtail making every small occurrence feel like a major, soul-satisfying experience as much as I can; but what a failure that has been right? Haha!

Anyhoo, so just like almost everyone else in this world who looks forward to a brand new day, so do I; sometimes also in the voice of Sting. It helps to add some song and zing into one’s day and way of life, yes? I’m glad we agree.

But these days, this excitement is slowly but surely changing…into what, I’m not sure yet; though changing it is — because hello menu engineering. Having to decide what to have on a daily basis has fast become a chore I really wish I didn’t have to do or deal with or have hanging over my head with the added weaponry of guilt; because apparently every good married girl does this with ease and minus any complaints. Hahahaha! Never have I found the list of things married girls must become adept at almost overnight, more hilarious and irritating, than when I became a married person myself. Many of us do get that grace period to gracefully pick these skills up; but I’m lagging behind on every front and lovin’ it…except when it comes down to my turn and I’ve nothing to show; especially on the table and with an empty stomach. It’s ironic how these ideas traipse in and out of one’s head when you’re not required to put them to practice; and how they disappear when it’s time to get down to business.

I have used the sophisticated term menu engineering because I want to emphasise just how huge it really is. Apart from it being a thankless job since forever, it is a big deal and one that the kitchen master is directly responsible for – suddenly the one who cooks has theirs and their partner’s life in their hands – because what we eat is what we become, right? This single task has made me question all my dreams of ever opening that quaint café I always thought would be mine someday…because there’s no way I’m going to want to sit and think about menu options on a regular basis.

To be honest, and like I’ve mentioned above, I’ve been lagging behind on this entire what you should become once you get married scenario. I make meals that are healthy, appealing, tasty, presentable…but above all, I make things which are easy and can be had again. Non-vegetarian curries – great to be had fresh, best when a day old, trust me. But yeah, that’s about it. That’s all I can think of keeping in my fridge without feeling guilty. Oh, and aataa (kneaded wheat flour dough); even though that’s apparently not a very good thing to keep in the fridge.

Thinking of what to make for the day and week isn’t as easy or lovely to do. When that fails, your grocery shopping fails. When your grocery shopping fails, your meals fail. When your meals fail, all else fails; especially if you’re really intent on eating home food. Also, when grocery shopping fails, coming face to face with a missing ingredient right in the midst of cooking said dish, is inevitable. Has that happened to you? It’s the story of my life! And doesn’t that speak a thousand words about my progress on being a composed, has-it-all married lady? It’s both funny and pathetic. Funny because we have such standards, pathetic because it sucks hard when you really need an ingredient and find it missing in the middle of a cook.

But there’s always Big Basket to make you feel a little more accomplished on the home front. Except when you get your entire order and realise you missed that one crucial product which preempted you to haul your ass online to do all that shopping in the first place.

Like I was saying – story.of.my.life.

PS, we can finally cook at home and so I made the one and only thing that can make my heart sing – dal chawal (lentils with rice) only to find that my stock of lentils was over with that cook. Oh well. I told you. Haha!

Initiation Ceremonies And Learnings

6 Sep

Today the beginning of my maid saga finally took place – my precious flowery morning tea mug was broken.


Here it is, from a time when I was having a grande morning.

I knew it was going to happen without even delving into or explaining how my instincts told me to be less lazy and do their washing on my own. It happens to everyone, I’ve seen these things happen all my life among various other freak (and most often calculated) incidents that do indeed announce the arrival of your house help. And so my initiation ceremony took place today as I heard the not so welcome shatter literally shatter whatever else it was I was doing at that said time. An earlier me would’ve gotten angry and would’ve even gone to the extent of crying in exasperation and wonderment at just how this atrocity happens with such ease by the hands of only a certain chosen few. But because I knew and ignored my own mental notes and voices, I could only sigh in resignation… I’ve learnt something new today; or a few things actually – do the important work yourself before it’s too late, never depend on anyone unless you’re smart or skilled enough to delegate, never leave the crockery to an external help or someone you suspect has butter fingers. I just wish it was some other mug that wouldn’t have been such a sore to lose. The new me has accepted that this was my fault to begin with.

However, there are far greater things to be watchful of – the sneaky appropriators, the silent food gobblers, the downright (and obviously) unapologetic kleptomaniacs…dealing with maids was always something I never liked nor directly engaged in. There’s a way with having a house help – male or female – which I’m clearly illiterate about. I’m not sure whether it’s the lack of assertiveness I suspect a massive lacking thereof, or that magic potion which gives you the strength to not only get your work done but to perhaps sow some seeds of loyalty in them too, which I’m in drought of. I do try and follow ma’s pearls of wisdom; her signature statement being – stand on your own feet. It’s true, for sure. But I’ve always asked what it is that makes some of us stick on and some of us just not give a shit. Either way, I can imagine mom chipping in right now to say that I’m investing too much time, effort and thought into something that doesn’t need that sort of giving. She’s a wise lady, this mother of mine.

I do dream of a day when I can pick up my load of laziness and perhaps do everything on my own. But not only does that make me feel stupid, it far from gives me that sense of achievement I should technically be feeling on having such thoughts. Oh well. I tell myself that this isn’t new and you’re probably going to witness bigger demons and extortioners in the guise of sweet smiles, fake promises and envious work experience. Handling human beings is quite a task – I promise I’m just about able to handle some of myself; how does the rest of the world do this?

And to think I wanted to be an adult.


Picking Between Battles to Fight and Ignore

13 May

The one thing that’s hit me hard in my face the past couple of months is that peace of mind, while very attainable, comes at the cost of compromise a lot of the times. It’s seldom a my way or the highway scenario not because that’s impossible, but because it’s really not practical or helpful for that matter. It’s a concept I’m learning how to deal with because more often than not, it’s my peace of mind which I seek comfort in at the end of the day. And compromise, by default, indicates that you aren’t necessarily going to get your way, if at all sometimes.

To have a substandard clean house versus having a clean house the way you want it to be…
To have house help who are infamous for doing things the way they want to despite training and supervision versus having no house help at all…
To find objects in positions xyz because you want them in positions xyz versus finding them dusted and cleaned but not in positions xyz thanks to said house helps and their habits…
To do all the cleaning and cooking yourself just the way you like it versus not finding your standards matched up to but with help which is a blessing in its own way…
To inculcate the habit of picking up after oneself at the cost of a squabble or two versus doing the picking up yourself and getting rewarded with peace (which is an art and comes after much practice, I tell you!)…
To have your own peace time to do as you wish, when you wish versus rushing to get things done just in time for the house help to arrive…

The list of compromise and battles is ohmygawwwwd endless. Every day holds a new surprise, if you ask me. Whether it’s sounding like a broken record to the guy who cleans your house, to the point where you hate yourself for opening your mouth more than you hate his daydreamy attitude, or putting your hands up and giving up at the cost of not having things the way you want them, is such a bargain of both mental peace and the need to have things in a particular way.

I’m not sure it’s about being rigid as much as it is about not understanding just why it is so difficult to do the regular stuff, especially like keeping things back from where they were picked up at. This really isn’t even a husband-bashing post because one thing’s clear – I’m used to a certain way of doing things, and he, well, let’s just say the traces of his bachelor days pop up from time to time as some sort of brotherhood assurance or whatever the silly reason may be. It’s a line we have to draw ourselves and walk equidistant to arrive at a point where we learn to give and take some. It’s a task nonetheless and we’ve had our fair share of squabbles…change isn’t so easy to handle especially when each of us believes we’re right. In my honest opinion, men, if left to themselves, would make a fine man-cave out of their surroundings where everything’s within reach and all over the place. No, I don’t hate men, but this is something which has more truth to it than falsehood…we’ve seen it on television shows and we’ve seen it in reality – there’s no more proof one needs. A lot of them do not get our ways and a lot of us do not get their way of doing things. Ah, balance!

Many conversations and discussions with friends in the same situation yield the same conclusion and solution – i.e. picking which battle to fight and which ones to forgo the effort over. Growing up has its mean share of lessons to learn – mean because who loves having someone else get their way so much? But to know better and walk away when you must, even when you really just want to stand there and hold your ground, has its benefits; and worthy benefits at that.

We two are a continuous work in progress and while we poke jibes at each other from time to time and turn on the switch when the shit hits the fan, I know we’ve come a long way bearing lessons learnt and a fair share of occasional resentment as well. Learning how and which battle to pick has been my biggest milestone; one that I’m taking a while to linger around at because I’ve far from mastered the art of keeping my cool and finding that balance between what both of us want. I’m constantly learning how to give in and how to be assertive on what’s necessary.

What prompted me to come here and spew these words out, was of course my house help and his complete ineptness, his lack of care and his silly daydreaming ways. A scolding and some self-loathing later, here I am, involving you in my daily shenanigans which, I guess, are a regular feature everywhere…because it’s a universal fact that if I’m not doing the things I want done, then I’ve got to be okay with slight change and compromise for that coveted mental peace.

Sometimes I wish playing house was as simple as putting a bed sheet over my head where all was well and everyone + everything was clean and free. Haha!

Plans and Such

14 Dec

Armed with my mug of chai made with milk powder (a necessary mention) and this laptop which I’ve placed on the sofa’s armrest as a makeshift table, I feel as prepared to write this as lost as I feel about the day in general. To clarify, it’s not like there’s nothing to do at home or that I don’t have set goals for the day, it’s just that I find myself sitting here instead of tackling my tasks head on, which makes the task master in me feel a tad bit lost. Well, not everything goes as per set plans and that’s exactly what I’ve come here to talk about, should there be keen listeners…I mean readers.

It’s getting progressively colder and I can feel the change in temperature with more sensitivity than I had imagined. Coming from Bangalore, I had perceived to feel nothing less than bone-cold on the first day I landed here, and progressively worse as winter makes itself home and wraps us in its chilly, freezing grasp. But much to my surprise, it’s been manageable so far, warm fleece pyjamas and all, and it hasn’t been as nightmarish as I had envisioned it to be. Of course it’s another thing that winter has just about started here, in the north, and we have a couple months before the madness subsides.

Talking about plans I had made very comfortably in the confines of my cushy head living a rather cushy life in Bangalore, here were a few others (key point to note is the usage of tense. haha!)
Fresh meals tailored to the likes of my husband and I.
Varied fresh meals made from only the freshest produce I would pick up from the market on a daily basis.
– A spick and span house with absolutely no dust, dirt or junk.
– Freshly laundered clothes that would be ironed and in our cupboards smelling of warmth, sunshine and of course cleanliness. Yes, cleanliness also has a fragrance that is only the most comforting smell ever.
– A marvellous routine involving healthy amounts of physical activity, healthy eating and taking care of the husband and myself.
– Scheduled amounts of “me” time that would comprise either reading or just spending time with my mad self doing as I wished.

…the list was endless and I’ve cut it short to prevent further embarrassment.

On reviewing how these plans have spanned, here’s what has happened so far:

– I’ve managed to cook just about thrice in the week that I’ve been here. Thank God for maggi and eggs!!
– Talking about variation is just embarrassing now. It is amazingly ironic how when you’re blessed with good, hot, comforting food back at home that you dream and wish of how you will change ‘the monotony’ once things are in your control. Come control and my mind has turned into the blank slate I never even thought it could be, especially in this matter. Let’s not even get into the use of ‘fresh produce’ because well, let’s not (reminder that my tea has been made with milk frikkin powder). I came to love the word ‘produce’ ever so much because it sounds so positive and healthy and inviting. I still do love it, but maybe from a distance, because guess what, I got no fresh produce springing into my kitchen as I had imagined…sorry, planned. And to think I wanted to open a cafe. Haha, I can see the universe just laugh at my plans.
– As for the housekeeping bit, there are pockets that are spick and span which makes me feel content beyond description; pockets at home that I frequent more than the others. But then there’s a vast amount that still needs a lot of panning and picking at first. Like I said earlier on, I’ve goals now. Housekeeping goals. Of course it was the husband who, in his attempt to calm my panic at the herculean task that lay ahead, suggested I take it one step at a time; that no one would judge and that this wasn’t a test or a competition. He makes sense but maybe being a guy, he doesn’t really comprehend the gravity of what dirt can make a cleanliness freak feel like.

– I have never done so much laundry in my life. Never. And with clothes taking their sweet time to dry because we barely get any sun, it makes the experience all the more nail-biting. However, there is nothing to compare to the joy of freshly laundered clothes. It smells and feels divine. No, really. Though this lovely laundry doesn’t magically appear in our cupboards, ironed and all, as I had again planned, or imagined, in this case.

– With respect to healthy eating and physical activity, I can safely vouch for the absolute lack of it all. It is scary and it is scarier still. I can feel the marvellous fruits of inactivity making themselves feel very at home on my own person!

It is annoyingly funny how it all seems so comfortable and worked out in one’s head and just how magically it all falls flat when you’re actually put to test. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s probably to not plan as much; or rather to not be rigid with plans. Because really, moms are great and they’re universal geniuses and newly married women are just not even close and our homes will never be as warm, comforting and magical as our mothers’. It’s a fact and so it is. And that once you have washed all your laundry and done all the dishes, you will find that odd thing that really also needed washing which got left out from your pile. Because it’s the law of housekeeping and the universe needs a laugh once in a while. So I’m going to try and laugh along whenever I can, too.