2 28 AM. And the only happiness that knocks my door is the Zomato guy bringing in food I had ordered an hour back. Though even that is botched up. He brings me Paneer Manchurian and not my plain Aaloo Jeera that I had been badly wanting to eat since my flatmate cooks an amazingly yummy one and I was kind of missing that but had to settle for the Paneer Manchurian when he told me they don’t have that anymore, though he weirdly kept insisting on the Chicken one. Ugh. So much for happiness.
My bed is a mess. But I kind of pride myself on my invincible talent to find enough space in this horrific dump to squeeze in every night. Anyway, I will clean it up over the weekend. Or when I find time to not do anything at all. Probably, the latter.
So I had bought this pretty taupe jumpsuit on Amazon and it came in yesterday which really deserves five stars on super fast delivery but not even a single one on the fit because it weirdly clung to my body when I tried it on! Exquisitely d-e-t-a-i-l-i-n-g the fat that I have come to nurture on my…everywhere! I so hate it when dresses in rare colours like taupe and mauve and lavender and wine and mint and coffee and..(I think I will just omit the ‘rare’ part so basically any of all of them)…fail me.
I recently learned how to make plain paranthas. By pouring in oodles of ghee. And it seriously felt like an accomplishment in the beginning since I had finally perfected the art of making something edible. But now it doesn’t feel half as exciting as before when I have been making them every single day and eating them plain without any daal or curry to make them bearable for me. Last time I tried, even the lid of the jam bottle got jammed and I sort of died a little and had to somehow muffle my silent screams inside of me. Cooking daal or curry is still beyond my amazing capabilities so when I am alone at home, I just settle for the not-so-healthy ghee-laden paranthas. Or sometimes go the Zomato way. Which is not-so-healthy for my pocket.
I discovered that your Customer Care Executive can be your best friend! So one time, my WiFi broke down, one other time I thought there had been some fraudulent transactions on my credit card (no they were not fraudulent, yes I have reached a point where I don’t remember my own ENORMOUS transactions and then later suspect them to be fraud, yes I am capable of doing that!), one time my train bookings got cancelled, and then one time Nestaway fined me for paying a late rent (how mean!). I had been calling the ‘Customer Care’ a lot throughout all of these wonderful instances. And I have come to realize that no matter how depressingly sad or sadly depressed you have been feeling, by the time you keep the phone down on them, you are fuming with such anger that all your pathetic feelings will have been dissipated and you suddenly feel renewed with this rare vigour, unknown to man until this moment, to take down the world and to fucking take on anything in life! Like screw Ted Talks, these unabiding Customer Service people are the new therapists. They listen to your deepest needs by not listening to your immediate ones. Surreal.