Oh duh! Okay I’ll give
excuses reasons and then come to the point. I have time constraints. I get out at 7:00 in the morning and reach back at 8:30 in the evening. Weekends are spent doing everything I couldn’t do through the week. Sooo I live in a mess or rather my room is a mess! It’s true. No chair or bed or sofa or table is bereft of books, clothes and newspapers. The curse of living in the same house for over twenty two years is that you tend to accumulate a lot of junk. This, accompanied with the tendency to not want to throw anything away, gives you what I lovingly call home.
My brother flew the coop long ago leaving behind some of his stuff, which till date lies rotting in one study table/cupboard, a variety of cardboard boxes and drawers. I gave up on tidying long ago, owing partly to laziness and partly to the feeling of helplessness that overcomes me as I cast my eye on endless shelves of completely useless items that surround me, the feeling that only moving to a new house will alleviate the situation.
The maid (who has been with us longer than the mess), having learnt her lesson the hard way through previous experiences of creating more chaos by putting things away where nobody can find them and consequently being yelled at, now turns a blind eye and leaves me to not pick up after myself.
DadDas is the one that takes the effort to sort some things out from time to time, especially when the pile of clothes and books reaches dangerous heights, swaying treacherously and threatening to bury us all one day under 90 days’ worth of bad headlines.
So accustomed to the mess are we, that we’ve started working by the logic that it is easier to locate an item if it is –
(a) visible at all time
(b) liable to be sat on occasionally
This logic sometimes does fail. But that is nothing compared to what happens if a member of the household( Read Das or the maid), seized by conscience, decides one day, to pick up something and put it in its proper place. And by proper place, I mean anywhere that violates both the conditions mentioned above. Since I never believe in doing anything until the very last minute, leaving the house becomes a bit of a problem owing to an inevitably missing item. Chaos ALWAYS ensues. Consider the following scenario: I’m getting ready to go out with the gang n have five minutes before having to leave when –
Me: Where is my blue stole?
Das (gesturing): Must be in that thing you call your room
Me: I cannot see it here
Das: Can you ever see anything in that room let alone find!
Me: Can you please stop torturing me! I know you know where it is!
Das: What is a stole anyway?!
Me: Achaaaaaaa! Its like a shawl. A shorter version of it!
Me: I dont have time to wait! You can read the paper later too. I have my friends waiting!
Das: I havent seen you wear a blue stole, ever. Why do you need it now?!
Me : Ofcourse you have seen it, I wore it two days ago when I went to gym. I have worn it a hundred times!
Das: Oh that black shawl with blue and pink border! Now I k now what you are talking about. Stole, my foot! Its a shawl!
Me: Whatever! Can you please find it!
Interrupted by the honking of my friend’s car, I decide to get out without it as the search continues until the room is even untidier than before. Eventually the shawl is found tucked away in the nether regions of my bed! That area of my bed that I havent yet found anyone worth sharing with.
Once, Dad made the colossal error of being away for a couple of days leaving the house to the mercy of my indifference. Things got a bit out of hand then. I remember, once in a fit of mistimed hospitality, I invited a bunch of friends over to my place, when we were hanging out in a coffee shop nearby. The misguided fools happily accepted my invitation, having never been to my house before. As we entered the bedroom, which is generally unoccupied, I noticed, as I’m sure they did, that the bed was overflowing with clothes and blankets. I waited for comments like “Wow, it looks like you’ve just been robbed” and ‘Man, is this the only part of the house that the tornado hit?” Instead, after the slightly stunned silence, one voice pipes up “So you live alone huh?”
Surprised, I gestured towards the bed as the obvious answer to the unnecessary question, and invited them to sit. “Where?” was what I read in their faces, but they good-naturedly sat atop the layer that covered the bed. “Wow, you have a lot of books,” one of them commented, looking around. “Books?” I thought to myself “HELLO?!? What about the MOUNTAIN OF CLOTHES you’re sitting on?!?” But all I could say was “Yeah! I do” and hope fervently that none of them was sitting on any pair of my personal.. ummm.. ‘delicate’ items. To this day, I am not sure whether it was sheer politeness or a resigned acceptance of ‘their-friend-the-slob’ that prevented them from displaying the expected reaction. Since I know that tact is not one of their strengths, I strongly suspect it was the latter.
Anyway, generally whenever I have company (expected of course) I make the effort to at least clear up some place to sit. But, I confess, this merely involves shoving the wandering items into whatever space is available. So next time you come to my place, you will find the room looking relatively tidy and the bed mercifully devoid of clothing. Errrr .. just don’t go opening any cupboards, okay?
Look, really I am not that messy and all. Its just that I really dont have the time to put stuff back into place and keep it neat. I try, I do, I really do! But sometimes when you are in a hurry and you have a loving dad back home who cleans up after you, you tend to take things for granted and then some days dad stops doing what he used to do because he thinks you have to run a house and get married and thus stating the-so-be-a-little- responsible he says you are on your own now! Thats when the room gets untidy. So it really isnt my fault ryt!