One for Hot-Air balloon, two for cables' loom 🧵

6.36 pm

I scrag and burry the usual ‘thing’ which had barely partied out its inauguration, The German Assignment. After draining blood for the ‘World War Tuesday Assignment’, it was time to drain some sweat. Doyenne had the ken of my fate. I didn’t however. It was like jam on one face of the breakfast bread while the other side remains raw.

I wobble my fingers as if I was the reflection of a mischievous magician in an unusual mirror. I bounce up from my desk and prance till the time I made an appearance at Oke’s Kingdom. Too busy reading a novel, which I assume will be ‘the’ novel that he’ll read till “Happy New Year!” like the one he read about Steve Jobs (not to mention that it progressed a page every day and heavenly reached its heaven in a year), not even glancing at me, back at the half-open door I’m standing by.

I swivel my head to the right and the left, give a voice to the desperate-much-awaited-question in my loud lilt, “Where is Doyenne?”. I questioned.

My bad. My worse. My worst.

How could I even commit the crime of shooting someone’s chain of thoughts and murdering someone’s curiosity at the VERY same time? Uhh-oh

How could I even spark an iota of hope in that jiffy?

A hope that

Mr I-am-too-busy-reading-about-how-Richardson-flys-with-Hot-Air-Baloon will retort.

These ‘light up your day!’ quotes, which states that ‘Hope is the only light on a dark night’ makes me lachrymose at times, not because I get sentimental, but because I get mental how they don’t make any sense at ‘times’.

Our well built, hefty, TVs have been on a self-care vacation lately. One of the two flicks on and within 60 seconds flicks off. Another of two doesn’t flick at all. To be truthful, I have no memories or flashes of how she made ‘that thing’ work, but she did it after all. The one who had fifty fluid per cent of water in its bucket was working now, somehow.

6.38 pm

I squint at the reflection of the terrace’s entry at the Buddha delineation. Is the door open or is it closed? A marvel thought to brood upon. Closed!

Decision taken, case closed.

I look downstairs with no signs of Doyenne’s zing. I make a broadcast, “Doyenne?”. Which technically translates as “Are you there?”. She gives me a yes. A yes which echoed to tell that ‘I’m embroidering our future, stay tuned!’

I trot downstairs. A left and a right.

SHE WAS ACTUALLY EMBROIDERING OUR FUTURE!

“I have been intertwining some cords, cables. Like at least a try if the TV works. Just now, it worked a little. Little better than last time.”

Our well built, hefty, TVs have been on a self-care vacation lately. One of the two flicks on and within 60seconds flicks off. Another of two doesn’t flick at all. To be truthful, I have no memories or flashes of how she made ‘that thing’ work, but she did it after all. The one who had fifty fluid per cent of water in its bucket was working now, somehow.

“Now, we have to get this upstairs and pluck all the right wires in.”

Your order, my command!

6.41 pm

“Tired?”

Ughh that grin on her face!

I had drained my sweat on the staircase as I had no record of carrying a bulky TV on 18 stairs. I WAS tedious, tired. Although, you know how there are these wacko moments when you have to be like “nahhhh” in front of the “ahhhh”, ya so one of those days it was.

Doyenne is like one of the power builders you gawk at the gym. Who looks like Groot but shows off like Hulk? Exactly that.

Mingling of cables, swapping of switches, flicking of TV, and slapping of the remote on my hand (I swear, it was on a self-care vacation too).

6.53 pm

“What!? There’s season two of ‘The A List’ coming on 25 June!”

Yup, I was over the moon and into the sun. My binge watching series’ had its season two coming, so I have a strict validation to prove that I was enthralled.

6.59 pm

I on the edge of falling and bumping my head into the TV.

6 minutes of total prepping myself, and news updates (about Netflix), had passed by. Swiftly.

The tourist bus, of my precious brain, was roaming somewhere on the under-construction highway.

Shall I watch ‘Anne with an E’? Or shall I add one more E to my writing? Shall I defeat the four episodes that had been waiting for me like Cinderella? Or shall I defeat four pages of the novel that had been waiting for me like Mulan’s father?

7.09 pm

Yes, sir. Still wandering on the Highway.

*I regret now. I should’ve used Google Maps and found the way out. Wait, does that thing work in remote areas?

I give a quick ‘check up’ on my phone.

I felt like the dentist who wanted to do a quick ‘check up’ too and then ended up yanking two of my Incisors and banjaxing the nerves near my teeth.

I concluded, quick and steady, Let’s watch at least one episode, after all, TV is working after weeks of despair.

7.15 pm

I had paused the episode four times to ponder where did I left the storyline. I had switched between two series to ponder which one I was feeling to watch. I had started to run a marathon with minions to ponder how is it better to merely go downstairs and read few pages.

Case closed.

Writing while eating my ‘FOX’ candy was much better than pondering half of the wit.

8.39 pm

Here goes Impassive Adult with a curiosity, “So, what did you do?” I was curious too now. Doyenne’s secret recipe to embroid our future by fixing the TV, what was it? “Ahh, I just rammed on some button and modes.”

Modes.

That word is wow. Wow for the casualty.

Ergo, if you want to embroider a little cute stuff on your brand new white shirt please get up, go downstairs (if you don’t have a ‘downstairs’, digging up the floor to form a basement is not a bad idea at all), tangle some cables, plug in some cords, banjax and ruin some ‘thing’, slap a remote, drain your sweat on the stairs (if you don’t have a ‘stairs’, building a few is not a bad idea at all), defeat the World War The Tuesday Assignment, read about how a human named Richardson fly on Hot air balloons, and BOOM!

You have the mode on.

*Gratis Bonus: You get to burn some calories and do cardio without knowing