Of Lazy Sunday Mornings

Warning: Completely senseless post (like all the others in this blog)

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It is amazing how much one changes over the years, and Sunday mornings are a best reflection of the metamorphosis.

There was a time when I used to get up at 6.00 am on a Sunday morning, eagerly awaiting the sound of the newspaper man flinging the Hindu on to our verandah. Time when seeing a sunrise was not restricted to some vacation with friends in Goa. Time when friends used to come over at 8.00 am with the make-do cricket kit – one bat, another with a broken handle to be used for the non striker, one rubber ball, (a tennis ball if someone got lucky), and three wooden sticks. Time when we used to invariably hit the ball into some neighbour’s house and got yelled at. Some days, the evil auntie confiscated the ball and we had to return crestfallen. A quickie lunch and more games, games and games.

Nowadays, Sundays are so different. I end up doing tp till 3.00 am on Sat nite, and crash thereafter. Hoping to get some sound sleep, promising myself that waking up before 12.00 is a waste of a Sunday. (one of the favourtie quotes I have read: “A day not wasted is a day wasted”).

But there seems to be a big conspiracy to ensure that SRK doesn’t get his beauty sleep on Sunday mornings. First, it is the sun, aiming his rays straight on to my face. (ok, ok, I forgot to draw the curtains, but why does the bugger have to rise at 6.00 am on a Sunday? I mean, take a break dude)… So, I get up, draw the curtains and come back to my oh-so-cosy bed…

No sooner have I returned to dreamland, the doorbell goes DING DONG. Ah, the milkman, who comes late on weekdays (thus making me late for office) and somehow has a resolution that he will make up for it on a Sunday. Ok, am half awake now, so might as well glance through the headlines on the paper. (see, some habits die hard). So, there goes another half hour, with me moving from the headlines to the sports pages, the gossip columns and the comic strips. Finally, the funniest part in the paper...

I can visualize my bosses reading this and going bwahahaha, "Let's see, what do we have here? socialising, entertaining, amusing yourself and others, generally having a ball." Hmm, should give the new analyst gadha some work"

I decide I need more sleep when the Aishwarya pic that I am drooling over is getting blurry, and it is not the mistake of the photographer. The eyes are pleading with me to get back to sleep.

Off I go to bed again, and feel thankful for such lazy Sundays. Three years back, I would have been getting ready for the marathon Sunday lecture that I used to take while coaching students. Ah, they would all curse me mentally (and some audibly) for waking them up on a Sunday morning and discussing Debit-Credit etc.

But just as I lapse back into dreamland, the doorbell goes DINGDONG again. And a voice shrieks ‘Kachraaaaaaaa’… curse myself for not putting the garbage out the previous night. (Ah, should get married soon, at least the wife would nag me to do it every nite without fail... ok, people from the family reading this, don’t tell my mom I said this!!!)…

Dump the garbage, and get back to bed. Remember 2 minutes later that I did not wash my hands. Ok, I am normally not a fussy-about-cleanliness person, but somehow my hands stink. Get up, wash hands, go back to zzz… Somehow, I keep dreaming about the excel model that I was working on… Damn the job, they are making me work too hard.

Ok, by now, you know what is gonna happen. Funny how both the SRKs are so damn predictable. It goes with the name I guess. Yes, the doorbell rings again. It is the bai this time. Wait a minute, didn’t I tell her to come late on Sundays. Well, I did, but then she comes up with some excuse that I am too sleepy to recollect. Anyways, by now, I am more than half-awake, so might as well have some breakfast.

I open the fridge, only to find it empty. All those inventory management lessons from MBA have been happily forgotten, and I am too lazy to go down six floors to get something. Convince myself that I am getting too fat and missing a meal once a week wouldn’t hurt.

Log in to the computer, only to find that I am not the only one awake on a Sunday morning. After all, everybody else has a milkman, a kachrewaali and a bai. Just as I am about to bug people on chat, the net conks off.

I try my hand at AoE, but in my sleepy state, the computer kicks my ass. Not wanting to start of the day on a bad note, I shut the comp and go back to bed.

Soon, I am woken by a series of continuous squeaks. A stupid sparrow has flown in through the window, and like Abhimanyu, has no idea how to get out. But this was no Abhimanyu, it was a she (how did I know? By looking at her chest, stupid!). Now, I don’t really like birds in my house, (unless they walk in wearing a mini-skirt), and I had no patience for this cute li’l sparrow. They shit all over the place, and then bang themselves against a fan and drop dead, creating a bloody mess. [ok, before someone from PeTA reads this and decides to become a PITA for me, let me clarify that I have nothing against birds, animals, fish, worms and other things that you guys may care to protect. As long as you keep coming out with innovative ways to protect animal rights, who am I to complain?]. So, I somehow drive her out without killing her.

Then, off I go to sleep again. Till my stomach growls for the missed breakfast and I decide to hop over for an early lunch...

And what better way to end a morning of nothingness than by blogging about it?