H-O-M-E...

My next post will be from Sweet Home Bombay.

Am taking the flight out tomorrow evening. Can't wait. Especially since, this time, my best friends are all in India for their vacations too. And so is Fi. (Barista, Prithvi, MacDonalds, Bandstand, Shopper's Stop, Gokul, etc., ...here I come!)

Things've been really really busy over the last few weeks, since I've been wrapping up. Last Friday I got the important things at lab settled, so now I can leave with a clear conscience. So, I think, it's much better this year than it was before I left last December. (All thanks to Fi.) But it's almost 6pm here and I haven't even started to pack. (Apparently, till now, baking cakes and cookies and muffins with my room-mates was more important than packing.) Luckily I got most of the other stuff done... photocopies of travel documents, some light health food (airline food messes me up), bank work, printouts of some articles I want to go over on the flight, music, library books given back, special book shopping done for flight, etc. Just packing left. And some washing up.

Well, would postpone it further if I could, but I can't. So, here I go. Ananymous, Champagne, and AA ... see you S-O-O-N.

Un-Blue-ing Monday

And then I had this wonderful idea. And I added: 'I want you to look into it and find out who it was, okay?'

Checkmate. He realised that there was no way out. Heavily, he sat down again, paused, and then told me that there was something that he thought I ought to know.

Surreptitously I reached into my desk drawer and turned on my little pocket dictaphone. I wanted his confession to be minuted. Who not? All conversations have to be minuted. Records must be kept, mustn't they?

This is what he said. 'The identity of this official whose alleged responsibility for this hypothetical oversight has been the subject of recent speculation is not shrouded in quite such impenetrable obscurity as certain previous disclosures may have led you to assume, and, in fact, not to put too fine a point on it, the individual in question was, it may surprise you to learn, the one to whom your present interlocutor is in the habit of identifying by means of the perpendicular pronoun.'

'I beg your pardon?' I said.

There was an anguished pause.

'It was I,' he said.

==========================

Explains why I'm re-reading Yes, Minister late one Sunday evening when I still have homework I ought to finish by tomorrow?

The Christmas Spirit

'Tis that time of year again... decorations and lights, music and dancing, shopping and X'mas celebration. But, seriously, it gets to one after a while. I've heard Christmas songs all day today, and that's all everyone's in the mood for. I'll give it to you, Christmas comes only once a year, but man, don't we get more than enough of the same stuff for weeks at a stretch? It's so trite this way, almost like one dons the Christmas Spirit along with the winter clothes, and then throws it off into the garage along with the Christmas tree and lights, in January. Poor St.Nick.

This superb post sums it up perfectly for me.

Sticklers of the World, Unite!

Today I went to the Bank (the same one that employs people that don't know basic arithmetic). As I was waiting in line, I saw a large cardboard sheet showing a sketch of the area around the Bank, redesigned. On one corner was a printed sign, saying, "Please excuse our construction disruption as we give our member's a new and improved Bank!", or something of the sort.

Yes, it was member's. And, construction disruption. And worse, there were several other printed notices around the area saying the same thing, in the same way. Those ten minutes in the queue were so stressful, I actually wished I hadn't cut my nails yesterday.