Good bye Dona Maria Part 2

Windows though which Nina Simone stares at us


More windows for staring purposes



"I don't want him, you can have him": 'Drama Queen' Nina Simone



Strange bedfellow



Fan with super-charged nailcutting ghost



Upside down world



Scary upside down world



Shoes, fridge and Salvador Dali

Goodbye Dona Maria

Exactly seven months to the day of having moved into 202, I'm leaving this house. We're moving, and as usual you're invited.

These past few months, I can easily claim as the best days of my life. Not a big one for reliving my childhood (brr), and something of a quiet sort even for a bit of college, my Dona Maria days are probably among those I'll remember for a very very long time.

Things I learnt:

1. Breakfast does not make itself every morning
2. Shockingly, neither do any of the other meals
3. Firing the maid is therapeutic. She's the one causing all the depression in the first place.
4. Clothes get washed. By you.
5. Fans have nails too. And nail clippers
6. Garbage does not have feet
7. Dust
8. Rice cookers are our friends
9. So are eggs
10. Maggi is the devil's child
and
11. There is probably only one person in the world, that I know I can live with. Sabbah.

As a result of Learning #12, I am taking it with me, probably in a box. It is now unchangeably family, and it goes where I go.

My next couple of posts will be dedicated to 202, Dona Maria. All the hundreds of memories, moments, friends, visitors, after-parties and dinners that will forever echo in these parts. In three part harmony.

I'll miss you, but I have to leave you.

Look, mommy! Sour grapes!

Okay, not really sour grapes. Even in the presence of a lover of some sort, I'd be mortified if I had to 'do something special' today. Not that I have, y'see? Coincidence or not, I have never actually had the awkward pleasure of such company ever on Valentines Day. So I don't know what it would feel like. Expensive gifts maybe nice. Jakes got a pair of red sneakers. (Yes, the ones my boss has owed me for THREE YEARS now! But in a very different context. Shit. I'm digressing all over the place.)

Anyway. This day is clearly not my area of expertise. But here's someone who knows. I'll let them speak.

The over promise

She spent her youth being driven around
from one all-night party to its hangover.
But she eyed the big life.
Big house, big pool, big dogs and a man with a big
bank balance.

So she married one of her hangovers.
Investment banker with a five-star outlook.
Two-star personality.
The trade-off is in the diamonds
and a bun already in the oven.

Became the typical wife.
Learnt patience with a monumental ass of a husband,
cleaning up his drunken puke and rebuke,
sweeping a thousand misgivings
under various Persian carpets.

Now he sits at home-
a whisky in hand is better at two in the afternoon.
She leans over the kitchen counter,
sharpening her knives
to cut him some slack.