I think this is the closest to contentment that I know.
Mother's BP is sort of (hopefully) getting under control.
I made a list of chores on Friday evening, and completed most of them by Saturday, and also took her to the doctor. Chores included washing clothes, buying vegetables and fish. No dry groceries this week, really. Also fixed the sink pipe and the shelf doors (a bad job, though).
I'll still take some time getting used to how washing clothes in the machine is the opposite of labour-consuming. It's like magic: how you can put in clothes and carry on with other work, with only the occasional looking-in. And it uses so much less water than the semi-automatic. Or maybe it was me who was filling the water till the given mark when it would have worked fine with less water too.
It's getting to be 5 on Sunday, and I have eaten, bathed, washed my hair. I took a very long bath today, and mixed the last round of water just for pleasure, though I was washed and done, otherwise. I would enjoy baths more if I had running hot water from a shower that pelted down thick beaded strands, like it was at the hotel in Chandigarh, and if the bathroom stayed warm for a while afterward, but this will also do, especially because that wastes a lot of water, plus it's not as cold as it was these last few days.
Mother saw a painted stork in Sanjay jheel today. I am very glad that they have begun to go to the lake and the park. She looked very nice in the bright, rani-coloured shawl I had bought her from Chandigarh. She wore a warm violet salwar, kurta and a white sweater with it.
I made doughy pasta yesterday, but got the sauce right. Ate lovely crunchy toast with butter and jam, a recent discovery. It tastes even better with honey and butter.
The poet (fawh!) texted, asking to meet yesterday. But I have no interest, and the days have been too full to accommodate that and also content. Of course I woke up remembering the Kolkata douchebag and I was texting a drunk guy who talked about how cool it was to meet his ex-girlfriend, but it's all fine.
I kept thinking of the luck potion, Felix Felicis, in Harry Potter, and how he kept having this feeling that something good would happen, but also how it was actually a placebo.
Mother's BP is sort of (hopefully) getting under control.
I made a list of chores on Friday evening, and completed most of them by Saturday, and also took her to the doctor. Chores included washing clothes, buying vegetables and fish. No dry groceries this week, really. Also fixed the sink pipe and the shelf doors (a bad job, though).
I'll still take some time getting used to how washing clothes in the machine is the opposite of labour-consuming. It's like magic: how you can put in clothes and carry on with other work, with only the occasional looking-in. And it uses so much less water than the semi-automatic. Or maybe it was me who was filling the water till the given mark when it would have worked fine with less water too.
It's getting to be 5 on Sunday, and I have eaten, bathed, washed my hair. I took a very long bath today, and mixed the last round of water just for pleasure, though I was washed and done, otherwise. I would enjoy baths more if I had running hot water from a shower that pelted down thick beaded strands, like it was at the hotel in Chandigarh, and if the bathroom stayed warm for a while afterward, but this will also do, especially because that wastes a lot of water, plus it's not as cold as it was these last few days.
Mother saw a painted stork in Sanjay jheel today. I am very glad that they have begun to go to the lake and the park. She looked very nice in the bright, rani-coloured shawl I had bought her from Chandigarh. She wore a warm violet salwar, kurta and a white sweater with it.
I made doughy pasta yesterday, but got the sauce right. Ate lovely crunchy toast with butter and jam, a recent discovery. It tastes even better with honey and butter.
The poet (fawh!) texted, asking to meet yesterday. But I have no interest, and the days have been too full to accommodate that and also content. Of course I woke up remembering the Kolkata douchebag and I was texting a drunk guy who talked about how cool it was to meet his ex-girlfriend, but it's all fine.
I kept thinking of the luck potion, Felix Felicis, in Harry Potter, and how he kept having this feeling that something good would happen, but also how it was actually a placebo.
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