there are things you should never have to do on a saturday, or any day. this saturday was a hard day to get through and will be even harder to get over. i’ll tell you about it when i have made my peace…for now let me tell you about last saturday, the kind of day that refused to go wrong.
last saturday i had a party to celebrate this house i love. if things go according to plan i move out in three months, and i want to make sure i really live in it, that i am not just passing through. it's a strange fixation i have developed as a result of living in too many places to take walls lightly anymore. so i planned and plotted over my menu for ten days and then i shopped and cooked and harrowed my mother on the phone for three evenings straight. then on saturday i woke up with the cats and cooked some more.
when the doorbell finally rang, the food was laid out, the beer was chilling, the plates and spoons were on the counter, the cushions were fluffed and the cats were passed out in the sunshine on the couch. i’d timed myself to the second and obsessed over every detail in a way that made even my mother proud. my friends came with company and laughter and stories and wine openers and extra wine and cigarettes and all the many other condiments that make life just fine. when they left, i had my home exactly the way i wanted, and that saturday i was the queen of good times…
thirty, female, single, living in mumbai. i drink copious cups of filter coffee, collect the mandatory festival packs of chocolate, negotiate with the cats for a corner of the couch by the window and squash in between a pile of books, my lap top and a bowl of pop corn. then i have a long think about life. i get paid to do this. my remaining time i spend acquiring the life experience necessary to mastermind my mid life crisis. this i do not get paid to do, and can therefore do absolute justice to.