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February 20, 2019

Wake me up when September ends


I had no intentions of hijacking song words as my ‘catchy’ headline but there I was, attempting to cook a meal for my kids post-surgery, when my editor Brenda calls and asks in a curt voice if I will be doing the Masala column this week.

I watched as the bits of chicken browned and the pasta got overcooked by a minute and 43 seconds as I desperately tried to multitask to stop the chicken from getting burnt and trying to drain the pasta before it overcooked some more sitting in the hot water, while trying to convince Brenda that I was halfway through my column.

Then she suddenly asked me what the column was about. I think she was just trying to make out if I’d already started on the column or if I was fibbing to buy time. Er, as one does when the editor asks. Right, Paul? Anyway, turns out, I actually HAD started it off so I smoothly reeled off what I was going to write about and she said rather dramatically – Of course your heading is going to be ‘Wake me up when September ends’ isn’t it? The rest is as you carry on reading.

So, like I said, I’m at home recuperating from surgery and I’m bored to near-death. I even suggested to Mr. Vidyarthi and Jasmine to park the big outdoor broadcast van at my house so that I could at least do my daily show on East FM from home but they laughed me off. Onto Plan B! I dusted my easel out and got the paints and brushes and the canvases out as well in an attempt to start painting as well. I also got out my embroidery kit and promised my daughter I’d make her some tablemats and a table runner for when she got married. Three weeks later, the box with the threads in it sits staring at me, daring me to put my money where my mouth is and make the tablemats. She’s only 13. She’s not getting married for another 15 or 20 years, I reckon, so I still have time. Then I started doing a cross-stitch project and by this time you’ve probably figured out that I’m probably a Jill of all trades. I have mastered some but I suddenly realise I’m back at work in another three weeks or so and I have no time left to finish off what I started.

On a rather self-congratulatory note, I have signed out of social media. No Facebook, Twitter or Instagram for me for the month of September. First of all, I can’t sit for too long as the stitches start hurting, and also in this fortnight that I have switched off, life is suddenly full of so many nice things!

I realised I have two children. They’re quite nice and call me mummy. I also found out I have real friends who are not on social media and are more likely to bring me food and groceries because I can’t get out and about.

 I’m paying more attention to my hobbies, I’ve caught up with so many movies I hadn’t watched, I’ve read magazines (I’m glad they still exist. I’d forgotten about them because of Facebook.), I’ve got rid of clutter from the home and I’ve done no planning whatsoever about the future. My diary reads appointments with the doctor for follow-up, lunch dates with friends who want to come over and a lot of blank pages in between.

If the constant pill-popping and severe pain didn’t occur everyday, I’d have said I’m on an extended break from daily life. I do miss being at work but I’m also suddenly sitting in the garden and looking at my potted plants more and enjoying their beauty. I eat my cereal in my pyjamas and then amble along to the balcony to have a cup of coffee at 11am and stare at the sky and snoop into the neighbour’s messy yard, congratulating myself on my pretty potted plants and the jasmine flowers that are climbing up towards my balcony, giving out a wonderful scent.

Yes please, wake me up when September ends. I’m totally loving the dreamland I am in for now.


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