“…Who turned on the radio?” he mumbled as he rolled in bed, trying to find the comfort-position he had just lost. Seemingly irritated he picked himself up and released the door to shut itself. He went back to his bed, eyes half shut, looked at the clock. Irritated further on the time, threw the blanket over himself and lay in the sweltering nine o’clock sun. Threw his blanket away and looked across to the adjacent bed. “Why are you awake? Isn’t it a holiday today?” he mumbled. And fell asleep. I knew he was asleep because the very next moment that he could recollect, he heard the telephone screeching the life out of itself. Seemed such anyway. Two rings, a pause and two more rings. As if someone was toying with this poor soul. And the heavy bass from the radio didn’t help the situation.
Again, he picked himself up. Sat up on his nice, warm bed with his face between his legs. Eyes fast shut and hands looking for ‘something soft’ to comfort him. It was such a conundrum getting him to rise and shine. And nobody tried anyway. And the telephone did not exactly endear itself to him. Six phone calls in just three minutes? Was this all a set up? And there are no comforting soft things that exist. It is all in the mind.
Grumpy and groggy, he went to the basin to admire his beautiful face. Booted out the occupant as if he owned the rights of occupancy. Scrambled through stuff on the stand. Rejoice! O’ Mighty One! for your Master found his toothbrush. And where is the toothpaste when you need it? Right in front of you.
“Oh! When did you wake up? Should I make something for you?” Gathering up all the energy he had, he looked up from the TV screen and said in a cold, crabbed voice, “Cold Coffee.” And went back to his TV screen. Refreshing coffee made the innocent little grouch a little more presentable. A little less nettlesome. Everything seemed to be coming back to normal. Seemed such anyway. When the maid showed up.
And according to this little person, maids are one of the most bothersome persons ever. At least all of his maids are (the ones he’s had all his life ). Of all the days of the week, she has to choose the day when he’s home to clean all the fans in the house, dust the television, make his bed, dust his computer and occupy the bathroom (to wash clothes, utensils). All of this with immaculate timing and precision. If you’d want to drive him away, let the maid loose on him. And with no room he could call his own, and the TV repair person showing up exactly when the title track of Sienfeld concludes, his brunch time is not as pleasant as he’d have liked.
“Why did you call everyone today?” He grumbled to his mother. “And why should I tell the TV guy whats wrong? I always do that.” She patiently listened to him and carried on with her chores. “I’ll make you a cheese sandwich…wait.” She pacified. “No I don’t want your sandwich…I don’t like cheese slices. What happened to normal cheese?” He discorded and went pacing towards his room, his computer. Asked the maid not to disturb and clean the room, leaving the computer alone. He got himself engaged in his computer until all those who did not belong took leave. “Did everyone leave?” he inquired sternly. Yes they’d left. And no more phone calls. And the radio was music. All is well. But did it end?
There was some grievance left in his mind, even after a long shower. His mother wiped the table clean and His Majesty had a hearty lunch with her. Now he was fresh and on the jovial side. He didn’t wish to show it though.
On extensive and objective research, I have the following conclusions.
I only want people to want to work. Because I don’t want them to work. Because I feel that if I want something done my way, I should do it myself. But still want them to want to work.
If you are not lazy, you do not need rest and leisure. Work all the time and find time to do everything you wish to pursue. I am lazy. I wont pursue anything even if I have all the time in the world. Want some of my time? Take it. I don’t use it anyway.
I take up things that I think I want to do. I get moderately good at them. Then I find it is too much an effort to get better. I pick something else up. And try to get good at it. In my quest for being better than good at something, I am now good at nothing.
I either disagree or don’t disagree with people. I am blunt and blatantly rude. I am direct and literal. I am tactless and piercing. I use neon lights and giant signboards. This is to highlight my hollow arrogance and hostile conceit.
I am blatantly ignorant about everything and still have baseless opinions on everything. I can argue all day long. But the best way to win an argument is to be right.
All of this is my impression on ‘myself’. Myself and only myself.