It was a Saturday, and I came back home a little early.
With a foul mood.
Something at work pissed me off and I just snapped.
Well, not exactly at work.
I don't like to show my weaknesses in front of others, so I held it in until I came home. And then I practically wrecked the house into pieces with one sharp screech.
Not literally, of course.
But I could just imagine my house torn into pieces and every piece shaking.
Yes, it is funny indeed because after venting my frustration at people at home, I felt a bit of ease.
I've calmed down.
To my surprise, my mother had reorganised our rooms.
Nice to see some change in my monotonous life.
For the past few weeks, I've only been seeing the walls at the office and the walls at home.
Office.
Home.
Office.
Home.
My entire day wasn't bad.
But a few fragments were.
Anyway, while looking around the newly organised room, I realised something.
I have way more clothes than one should have.
Actually, I've known that for quite some time. I just prefer not to think about it.
The problem with me, and probably every other woman in the whole universe, is that we do not like to repeat clothes.
Not for a birthday party.
Not for a wedding.
Not for any get-together.
Especially not in front of our friends, relatives, exes and their ilk.
Otherwise, we wear the same torn, faded clothes at home and look homeless.
We have something called Selective Clothing Repetition Disorder.
That's something I just invented.
Some people may even think of donating their clothes to us, unaware of the fact that we already own a pile of clothes which, if combined, could probably outgrow the tallest mountain in the world.
Another fascinating fact is that every girl has a pair of comfortable clothes and mostly wears just that.
Then there are a few clothes that don't fit but are waiting for us to fit into them soon.
Which will never happen.
But we keep them anyway.
Because who knows?
Then there are the precious ones.
First gifts from parents, siblings, boyfriends, friends and people who mattered at some point.
Some of them are probably twenty years old.
Some don't fit.
Some don't even look good anymore.
Doesn't matter.
They're staying.
And then there's the pile of new clothes grabbed during a sale as if the shop was giving them away for free.
Tags still intact.
Waiting to be worn so that they can finally fulfil their duties as clothes and not as showpieces.
And yet, we still choose to buy new and expensive clothes for that one relative's birthday who didn't even know we existed.
And not wear it anywhere else.
Maybe I should start a new business.
Renting out my clothes.
I have them in different sizes anyway.
And the same goes with jewellery, shoes, bags, watches, cosmetics and everything else.
My friend once told me that whenever I wanted to buy something, I should wait for a week and see if I still wanted it.
Very sensible advice.
I actually follow his advice every time I want to buy something.
But just after wasting my money on it.
Just like how we get excited about a new haircut and regret it right after.
Oops!
I have to take a break from my rambles and go to the office.
Urgent work!
I wanted to reorganise my wardrobe.
Instead, I reorganised the racks at the office despite all the work, just because I couldn't stare at the mess for another second.
Just that they were not my clothes.
They were stickers.
So I started sorting them.
Brands.
Gender.
Sizes.
Colours.
Styles.
Threw away the old ones.
Retained the fresh ones.
And there I was, sorting stickers when I had originally planned to sort my clothes.
At least something got organised.
I came back home, made a cocktail for myself, sipped it little by little with caramel popcorn on the side and called the day off.
I thought that was the end of it.
Apparently, the next day had other plans.
It was Sunday.
Since it was a Sunday, I thought of sleeping in.
But no.
Our brains are wired differently.
The days we have an important meeting or maybe have to travel somewhere, that's when we'll wake up late, be late for the meeting or even miss flights.
But when we actually want to sleep in, we wake up in the middle of the night and sit there without batting an eye.
Same thing happened to me.
I woke up at 5.30 a.m.
And couldn't get a wink of sleep after that.
On a Sunday.
Anyway, I spent the next few hours rolling on my bed thinking of various things.
Like what if an alien suddenly appeared in my room?
What would I do?
Or what if I suddenly teleported into the book I'm writing?
That would be interesting.
Maybe not.
Anyway.
Finally, it was time for us to walk the princes, Bentley and Cooper.
After that, for some reason, I decided I wanted to cook.
How old were you when you started cooking?
Well, I started pretty late.
And I usually do not cook.
But that day, I really wanted to.
I wanted to make a simple lunch with fewer ingredients so that I'd finish it soon and spend the rest of my holiday relaxing.
So I picked Kottayam meen curry, which is a Kerala-style fish curry, and Mangalore fish fry.
Of course, Mum helped me.
Have you watched Friends?
Remember when Rachel mixed up the shepherd's pie recipe with a dessert recipe?
Well, I somehow managed to mix up the fish fry recipe with the fish curry recipe.
Thankfully, before it turned into a disaster, Pro Chef Superstar Mum stopped me at the right time and continued with the cooking.
The dishes actually turned out really well.
We paired them with a cocktail and finished our three-course meal with ice cream.
Happy tummy, happy us.
Now started the main work.
Sorting the clothes.
Have you ever had an emotional connection with your clothes?
Well, I have.
Some of my clothes are more than twenty years old.
And three sizes smaller.
I can never let go of those clothes.
I don't know why.
Maybe because some clothes are attached to memories.
You remember who gave them to you, where you wore them and what was happening in your life at the time.
And suddenly you're sitting there holding an old dress that doesn't fit you anymore, but somehow throwing it away feels wrong.
So back it goes into the wardrobe.
Then you find another one.
And another.
At some point, I decided that enough was enough and that I was going to give away most of my clothes.
I actually did give away quite a lot.
And yet, somehow, I was still sitting on a pile of clothes.
A rather large pile.
I stared at it for some time.
Then gave up on the mess, poured myself a glass of gin and enjoyed my drink.
Unfortunately, the clothes did not disappear while I was drinking.
The cleaning had to be done.
So I went back and finished it until all the parts of my body started to fall off.
Metaphor, of course.
I was dead beat.
And just like that, another holiday was ruined by house chores.