My Estrogen levels are falling at the same rate as the petrol price is rising! So as the vehicles get leaner and meaner, I am getting comfortably plumper and irritable.
While growing
up, anything connected with the reproductive cycle was not discussed. Even
mothers did not encourage this topic to be put up on the podium. Don’t worry I
am not going to either ( I belong to the older generation, as you might have
guessed). The only reason why I am mentioning the unmentionable is the
consequences of this titillating hormone!
All my old
readers know that whatever my age might be, I always feel that I am twenty one!
Though I forget, my body refuses to! It creaks and aches (most of the time I
ignore it), sometimes I even moan unconsciously.
“So what,”
you might say, “that’s no big deal!”
I can imagine
the bored look on your face.
Well, these
urges have a tendency to overwhelm me when I am alone. When the lord and master
is on his trips, my cupboards are cleaned; the kitchen is scrubbed; all old
papers are sorted through; the fans are cleaned; windows are scrubbed…. the
list is endless. Notwithstanding its not a surprise that all my maids hate it
when L&M goes on his trips, as half the scrubbing has to be done by them.
As I grow
older these escapades are not limited to me being alone. Post COVID, with WFH
becoming the norm, the trips have reduced, and my addiction has increased. When
L&M is bound to the study this “mouse” has to play. In the beginning I got
away with it, but after a couple of falls and strained backs, the L&M keeps
an eagle eye on me (As advised by the Doc and other new adult in the family).
In fact certain paparazzi has taken secret videos when I am indulging and the
next couple of days are rather uncomfortable for me! (the mind not so much the
body).
I am sure you
will sympathize with me when I tell you that once I used to climb the high
ladders, clean the fans, and light fittings with the maid being my helper, now
I am demoted to the post of a helper. The Mighty Maid stands regally upon the
said ladder like a surgeon at the operating table.
“Soap,” the
maid asks, followed by, “Wet cloth” then, “Dry cloth.” Then I, like the Nurse,
meekly hand over the things, looking up at royalty.
Once upon a
time, I did not wait for anyone to do my mind’s bidding. Now I have to wait for
a suitable day before I can take the itch of cleaning away from my soul. Added
to this, I cannot climb on high stools, lift up heavy stuff or take off the
cobwebs without being upbraided!
Just the
other day, L&M went off on his trip. My maid had left for the day. I was
not able to sleep. The big loft in the kitchen balcony (It had become a dumping
ground for all unwanted stuff) beckoned! The Cat was away, who would stop me? I
took the stool (I was careful) took out everything and cleaned up the whole
area. Oh! What pleasure; what salve for my soul and the most important thing
‘peace’ that filled my very being. Sorting, cleaning, throwing, and arranging,
I lost track of time. I was so proud of myself.
“I did it!” I
congratulated myself.
The melodious
tune of my phone woke me from my reverie, and I rushed to get it. That was the
precise time when my back was wrenched, and I haven’t heard the last of it from
the three voices whose religion is to catch me on the wrong foot!
“When will
you learn?” , same words but different voices.
I think its
all my mind’s fault who refuses to grow up!
