Saturday, May 23, 2009

Single in the City

Being single and staying away from my family was one of the things I looked forward to growing up.
I had thought of all the fun, and the parties, no deadlines, no third-degree about men who dropped me home (Jeez Dad, I didn't take down the car registration number, didn't really foresee the possibility of having to pepper spray my friends).
Word to the wise: Living with your parents is not that bad.
Okay I know it's irritating that you have to share physical space quite often and give up the remote control to Balika-Vadhu-reruns, that treacly, diabetically sweet, addictive (not me, my friends)soap.
I also found it irritating to be answering calls from mom's friends (made me realise nobody was calling me that often). However, however my dearies, thou shall not a foolhardy step take, that too in the heat of the moment.
So living alone, with the all the fun and all the men, OVERRATED. After you've burnt your rajma one time too many and on a day that you've really worked you're ass off, you will begin to appreciate mom's watery dal and hybrid raw papaya-raw banana curry.
Not to mention that you always have to get the door (at all times, twilight, break of dawn). Things don't get taken care of while you're at work (like the ironing, the internet, the plumbing, the electric bell gone awry, the clogged drains..the list is endless). I think I'm all in favor for extensive research on The Economic Evaluation of household work and its inclusion in the National Income.
The other day I actually absent mindedly tried to unlock someone else's door for 15 minutes while the watchman wondered if I was nuts. No luxury to be absent minded when you're on your own honey. I'm a decent cook and all I found myself at the end of a tired crazy day was making a distress call to my mother because I had found worms in the new pack of wheat flour. I mean I make allowances for the viciousness of the bugs in my flat, but man this smacks of poetic justice!

Kind of like god's way of telling me 'I-told-you-so' punctuated by images of my parents doing the victory dance.

I think your parents actually want you to move out, but they do this reverse-psychology thing and try to convince you that it's not a good idea. So that you go ahead and try it, and agree with them and then they can say OK NOW, we're very proud of you and we want you to live on your own and take responsibility for your life!

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