Days of extreme boredom
These are outstandingly boring times.

Work has deteriorated into an insipid period of mindless rigor while home is unsettled ever since we shifted last week. Can things get worse? Days are spent preparing for meetings and
minuting actions thereof, with the promise of returns as great as two drops of fermented buttermilk at the end of a long and tired day in the Hyderabad summer sun. Evenings are
spent trying to figure out what program the waching machine in the new house is set to, given that you can take off the knob and put it back reading another program without really
changing any setting.

To top it all we havent had TV for months.

We moved out of the previous house for various reasons, one of which was a TV that was stuck on one channel and one volume for the longest time with the landlord refusing to move an inch. We solved the issue by moving into a new house with no TV. Now we've ordered a TV over the net which will be delivered only next weekend because we won't be home during the weekdays (busy with insipid work at office). During this period, of course, an entire World Cup has come and gone, India has beaten west indies after 35 years and an entire wimbledon has ended.

And I won't bother about mentioning internetlessness at home.

There are, of course, intermittent moments of excitement. Guess where I was at the anniversary of the 7/7 bombings? At Liverpool Street station, that too at 850 am which is
the exact moment the bomb went off there last year. (I may have been there at exactly this time last year if only my visa had arrived on time). Needless to say, it was the most
anxious tube ride I have taken. While a reasonable soul would pooh pooh my nervousness, I can assure you it was a very uncomfortable feeling reading the first page of the local paper
describing the terrorist threat while the train pulled into liverpool street station at the very moment. I eyed every person with suspicion, trying hard not to make a prejudiced
judgement on anyone with a beard or carrying an appropriately large bag. I heaved a sigh of relief when I stepped out to discover a large team of policemen waiting to welcome every person who emerged from the station. I duly observed two minutes of silence at 12 noon. Which of course, was a welcome interruption to an insipid meeting I had just got into to discuss the status of the various contractual documents that were awaiting signatures from 300 authorities of note.

In the midst of all this, if you're wondering what became of FM and hyper, well, for sure they are not hanging around in the sewers of central London. But who knows, perhaps it was
one of them that consecrated the famous "bust" in Mumbai?
- posted by Rallix @ 8:51 AM