Popping In

Figlia is spirited and naughty and stubborn. And fully mobile.

Mummy goes away to another room only because she is playing hide and seek, and she wants to be found.

Mummy pulls her hair at every opportunity of dressing and undressing the kid, because salons are expensive.

Mummy wakes up and stays awake in wee hours because mummy does not want to lose the practice of preceding year.

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I saw a pizza delivery boy resting against a tree, his two-wheeler parked away from the edge of the road. You know the guy who gets flak for being late everywhere? 

Yesterday, I went to pick up a package at a courier office. And detoured to a local eatery. The darkest chocolate pastry please. And then a cupcake. Yes, please. 

I wanted a chocolate fix. I wanted a time away from thinking of things to do at home, the next morning, the office. I was the pizza guy yesterday.

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I really do not belong to a family of crazy people. But I have been really thinking of some cousins, and uncles on either side of my bloodline who are confirmed in need of help in the mental health department. 

Because I have nothing to bother myself with, I wonder how I never caught the bug. Or why I haven't fallen off the cliff, given that I did suffer a huge crisis, the effects of which will stay on. Why did nothing really precipitate? Or why is that nothing not the thing that has gone wrong with the cousins. 

One of things I remember is that I decided to not tank under the pressure. That I had a vent in this blog. That I had awesome support, and people who understood.