Nothing ever happens around me

Weekend. Saturday. And I am still in quarantine. Still got the lurgy. Meh! Another day of sitting by the window and making up games, maybe writing. Maybe drawing. At least, had Chris over last weekend. Even if had a bit of a domestic. Bickering really. He said something. Then I said something else. One thing led to another. Yelling happened. But don’t think anyone heard anything. Love these walls. Too thick when you want to eavesdrop. But also, too thin when you want to sleep. Bit of an agro happened and I am not sure who threw the first punch. Ok, so not quite a punch. More like a poke. Ok, a “few” pokes. Could have been me – I mean girls can be annoying too; girls can be anything. Go girl power. I was angry. I was sick. I was on antibiotics. Cranky as heck. I had an excuse. What was his excuse for acting like an idiot?

So much ado over so little. He said I should not be eating so much just because you are “supposed to” feed a cold. And I said he shouldn’t be calling me tubby when I am poorly. And, we were off. What an idiot. Well, at least by the end of it, he did admit he was wrong. But so much clean-up afterwards. I really wish all my fights weren’t so messy. Like literally. Things broken. Stuff leaking. No self control. Where do I find these guys? Oh wait! On tinder. Face-palm. So much to clean up. Every single time. So much paper towel. So many Marigolds. So many bin bags. So much environmental pollution from just a single stupid stupid fight. And time. So much wasted time. I wish I could find someone who can clean up after himself at the very least. Such an idiot. Well, haven’t heard from him in a week. I don’t care. If he does not wish to act like a grown up, I do not need him. I do not care about him. I do wish he would call. But that’s his problem. Another one scratched off the list. Whatever. Wish they didn’t all have to go the same way though. Makes me feel really sad at times.

But on the positive side, no weed-smoking smells in the house. Yay! Neighbours seem to have stopped smoking weed around the property. I was this close to going to have a word with the responsible neighbour. If, I knew who it was, that is. Well, call to the landlady helped. Happy days. No secondhand opiates being painfully inhaled.

Do I really like living here? Kinda do really I think. It’s pretty. And green. I like green. It’s quiet. And clean.

Really should do my dishes. Dishwasher seems to be getting quite full. And only 2 spoons in the drawer. Maybe order spoons over Amazon? Ok, stop. Just do the dishes after breakfast. Breakfast! Hungry. Smoothie? Oatmeals. Oatmeal smoothie. Class! Knives in the dishwasher. Nothing to chop apples. Knife too sticky to clean. Yuck. Meh! Apple-free smoothie then. Coffee. Coffee in oatmeal smoothie. Food hacked! Actually tastes kind of yucky. Likely will never make this concoction again. Ah well… First lesson of the day learned. Life hacked!

To the window with the smoothie we go. It tastes like mud, with coffee flavour. The smoothie. And the vegan protein powder is really doing nothing at all frankly to counter the taste of the soil. Maybe, the vegan protein powder IS the soil like texture? Oooo… who knew. Another big gulp. And gag.

Oooo… knock on the door. Delivery? This early in the morning? Go Amazon Prime! Maybe my sweeteners are here? I know, they are bad for your health (or so “facebook” says, but they are so yummy. Ok. Someone else opened the building door. And now there is talking in the corridor. Well, at least I don’t have to get out of my chair. Wow! Knocking on my door? What? At this hour? Dude! It’s 9:15 on a Saturday morning. Normal people are still sleeping. Hmmm… Police. Should I be asking to see ID? But I have no idea what to check for on the ID. What if they are murderers? Or serial killers? Or con-artists?

Focus Purbasha. They are talking to you.

She is so pretty. And smells so good. Ermmm…

No, don’t know anything about a serious disturbance in the neighbourhood. Unless you account for my upstairs neighbour playing single-shooter games too loudly on his PS/ X-Box.

Ha! Got a giggle all around. Cop distractingly pretty. There are two of them?! Did not notice the other one there at first. Weird. He should work as an undercover cop; no one sees him or takes notice of him. He is the background!

The background is politely nodding his head. Smiling quietly.

Sorry, what seems to be the matter? Someone make a complaint?

Damn she smells good. What is that perfume?

Yes, a bit of an incident in the neighbourhood. Nothing to worry about really. Thanks ma’am. Have a good weekend.

Next door.

Shut the door. That smell is stuck inside my nose now. Like cherry blossom. Should find that in a room freshener. Need to do groceries. Back to the mud-smoothie and my music. Listening to Coffee Prince album that I am properly addicted to now. I can’t seem to stop listening to it. Should I draw something? Should I go for a walk? Venture out for a 30 minute contact with humanity? Not expected to rain. Expected to get warmer later. More voices in the corridor. Police leaving the building. Pretty cop talking to someone out of view by the gate to property. Cops walking over to the next building. And I have nothing else to do today except figure out whether I wish to maybe infect the retired population of the area by going out for a walk right now. Or should I just stay indoors? Walking around the flat is getting dull as nobody’s business. Do you realise how tough it is to get to 7500 steps inside a 1BHK? Sigh!

Still more voices in the corridor. I thought the guys left. Back to the door.

So what happened really?

Video game playing neighbour and “lives diagonally across from me” neighbour here. Another 2nd floor neighbour on the stairs. Should really learn their names.

Apparently when they came to pick up the garbage on Friday, they were a few too many bags out back. The garbage truck guys got a bit annoyed with that. One of them dumped a bag a bit too hard and some ketch-up bottle or something cracked and caused a mess and a stench. They were not happy about it. Caused a racket. Had a fight with the landlady.

Seriously, where was I when all this drama was happening? Missed out on all the fun.

So the police got called.

Police think it might not have been a broken ketch up bottle.

Lives diagonally across from me whispers…

They were saying something about someone getting stabbed out back in the car park.

Yowza! Again, how do I miss out on all this? So unfair. Everyone has “wonder what happened” face. Polite eye-brow lifts and awkward half-smiles. And door is shut.

Back to my window. Now that I want a spot of drama, it’s perfectly quiet outside. No noises. No people. Not even a dog outside. So dull. I think I will just go clean the kitchen.

Kitchen looks clean. Maybe will just do the dishes. Oooo… spot on the floor by the fridge. Ketch-up? When did I buy ketch-up? Weird. Oooo… must add ketch-up to grocery list. Also kitchen roll. And bin bags. And maybe a better brand of disinfectant. This one doesn’t seem strong enough. And it’s weird using Domestos on the floors. Ok, time to do the dishes now. Running out of Marigolds. My life is just way too dull. Cold be gone… soon. Please…

Maybe I should go back on Tinder? I hear good things about OkCupid…


Unicorns Feel Sad-Pain too

Once upon a time, in the green-grey forest, a golden unicorn was sitting by the side of black-river. The unicorn had a lot of sad-pain, and decided, the green-grey forest air was causing the sad-pain to grow. The only way to cure the sad-pain, he believed, was to go up black-river… to the other-side, and never come back again. Black-river heals all, unicorn thought. Unicorn went up to his friend, rough-rhino and said, “My dear and closest friend, brother-rough-rhino, I have sad-pain. And it keeps growing. The only way to cure it seems to be, leaving the green-grey forest and going across black-river to never come back. I hope you will miss me once I am gone.”

Rough-rhino thoughtfully looked at his friend and said, “My dear friend, unicorn, if you go across black-river, the only one that will be missing, is you. Once you leave the green-grey forest, slowly, each day, one by one, everyone in the green-grey forest will forget you. Even me, your closest brother-friend. Life in the green-grey forest will keep moving on without you. And what are the chances black-river will take away the sad-pain? No one really knows if black-river truly heals!”

After another moment, rough-rhino added, “How about this instead? Don’t go across black-river. Stay in the green-grey forest. Live with me. And talk to me. Every day. Just that.”

So unicorn decided to stay. And each day, unicorn and rhino would talk. And their words would eat up some of the sad-pain inside unicorn, rise up into the air and burst like so many rainbow coloured bubbles.

Stay with me. And talk to me. Just that.


How did Hamlet’s father die? …cursed juice of hebenon in a vial, and in the porches of my ears did pour… Can I do that? It’s not legal to do that. But totally untraceable, right? Actually no. They did catch the killer and his mistress. Mistress? Wife later. What is “hebenon” any way? Do they sell it at the supermarket? What am I doing thinking about Hamlet? Stop this racket. Stop this racket. I am tired. Please stop this racket.

The incessant snoring was driving her insane. She couldn’t sleep. Back at home, dad used to remove the batteries from the wall clocks just so they wouldn’t go ticking in the night and disturb her sleep. Mum made dad remove his flip-flops so he wouldn’t go slapping them all over the tile floor, disturbing people in the wee hours of the morning. She herself had removed the batteries from her wall clock on the day she entered her new house… 12:13 it pointed at… eternally! But now, there was this god awful noise… like someone was try to saw through a cat. Sometimes it was like a chain saw. At other times it sounded like there was woodpecker right on her pillow going at it… tut tut tut tut tut tut tut tut tut tut tut tut tut tut…

She got out of the bed and checked the time. 01:30 in the morning. It was Thursday already. But still 3 and a half hours until sunrise. She had forgotten when she last got a full night’s sleep.

Three weeks ago, he turned up with a two week notice… “Guess what you are doing in two weeks time? I am guessing you are playing hostess to me… for 6 whole weeks!”. Three whole weeks ago… She had slept peacefully. She had been cheerful. She knew a long time back she didn’t love him. She was with him out of this arcane sense of responsibility, duty and let’s face it… a ton of guilt but she had made her peace with that. Nobody put a gun to her head. Nobody forced her to stay with him. Nobody “made” her do anything. She was the sole perpetrator of this atrocity on her self. Great!

They had gotten into a fight. What was the fight about? She should ask her neighbours. They heard it. The whole neighbourhood heard it. The whole street heard it. There is actually a slim chance the naked guy that begs by the station with his dog… he too might have heard it. Embarrassing? Yes. But that didn’t bother her. After being yelled at on the streets, in the kitchen within hearing distance of the housemates, in the store… she was getting used to the scenes and the general drama. But what made her lose sleep (other than the “first whistle, then snort” snore that was going on right now) was the strange clarity that came from realising what had just happened… again.

He had walked out of the room yelling, “I need some air.” This was after midnight. She had asked him to take his keys along so she didn’t have to stay awake and he could take his time on the walk. But he had bashed the room door on his way out saying, “I can’t find my keys. You can stay awake or sleep. I will probably just stay outside all night.”. The door had made the kind of noise that would have woken up every soul, living or dead in the tiny flat conversion. Cue the cringe.

He had known. He had known she would stay awake, if only to stop him from ringing the doorbell in the dead of the night. He had known she would crumble and call and apologise. He had her like a puppet on strings. He had known her through and through. He had known from experience. This wasn’t the first time he had done something like that. And she had let it happen. She hadn’t had the strength to call his bluff. She didn’t even know if it was a bluff.

Is it abuse if the marks are only on your mind and not on your body? Does feeling suffocated by the presence of someone instead of perhaps a pillow on your face, count as torture? Is slowly allowing your body to degenerate by sickness of the mind and not doing anything about it classified as suicide?

She had called him and apologised. She had asked him to come back. She had done the right thing. And he had come back. And hugged her. And kissed her. And she had wished he had been stabbed by one of those invisible faceless creeps, that all women feel following them in the dead of the night. Or get bitten by one of the rabid foxes. But no such luck.

Is it forgivable if someone wants to “murder by guitar string” their betrothed at 01:42 in the morning due to severe lack of sleep? Is it human to manipulate someone so although you do not hit them they feel lacerated anyway? Is it ok if you scare someone into submission as long as no weapons are used and no violence to the body has been suggested? Is it acceptable to kill your body to avoid the slow death of your mind?

She shook him awake and asked him to pick the duvet he had kicked over to the floor on the other side. He got up, picked the duvet and she prayed she could fall asleep before the next burst of snores started. The next time she looked at her watch, the time was 02:00 in the morning. She had managed to sleep for at least 15 full minutes.

They say the longest any human has ever stayed alive without sleeping was 11 days. Maybe these 15 minutes would keep her alive a bit longer. Maybe she could add a bit extra cheese to his pasta sauce tomorrow. Maybe that will give him nightmares and keep him awake a bit longer. Maybe it will clog his arteries and kill him a bit sooner.

What is hope?

Time to drop the duvet over his side of the bed again. Just 3 more hours until sunrise.