Smonday Review

This weekend has been crammed full of things, and also oddly refreshing. Here’s a list of everything I did –

  • Make a fancy sandwich.
  • Lunch with mom and a friend’s mom. The moms are getting along with each other nicely enough now. This makes me happy.
  • A baking workshop! I have no idea why I signed up for it, but it was fun. I learned to bake 4 types of cake with the same batter. And I also actually wanted to try baking one today. I did not. On account of I am lazy and mistrustful of these sudden urges to bake. And also on account of having to clear up later.
  • Badminton with Tinku. Because his friends play badminton these days and he never has before and his less than perfect hand-eye coordination isn’t helping him any. I don’t want the other kids to laugh at him. And so, I took him out today and taught him what little I know about holding a racquet and making a serve. He improved quite a bit, I think. And also, badminton is fun.
  • The park with Miku. Because I forgot to take my keys and had to go pick them up from my mom and my sister and Miku after the badminton session. But Miku wanted to go to the park (which was Right There) and the mom and the sister wanted to buy vegetables and everyone was very happy to see me. It’s hard to say no to a baby. And so, to the park we went. Where Miku insisted on not wearing shoes and climbing backwards up all the slides. I had fun, though. And so did he. I could tell, because every time he came down the slide, he was screaming ‘Wheeee!’.
  • Brooklyn 99. I’ll get back to watching that in a minute.
  • Read.
  • Afternoon nap.
  • Police Station. Again. For my passport. Again.
  • Bills. Again. Because such is life.

That’s a long fucking list. It almost makes up for Sunday having slipped into Smonday.
That’s all for now. I hope you get through the week in one piece, Zonk.

Love always,
K.

PS: I forgot to add – I’ll be wrapping up the weekend with a Maggi dinner and ice-cream. I can’t ask for much more.

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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