I’m beginning to wonder (and then settle into a nice comfortable state of acceptance) if I was meant to be a stay-at-home kind of person all along, and if I was unnecessarily fighting it for all these years. Because I see signs of this every now and then, and it makes me stop in my tracks as I go about my rather simple life.
I’m having market-withdrawal, believe it or not. I haven’t made my weekly trip to the sabji mandi in over 10 days, improvising with what I have and eating aloo (which is usually only reserved for days when I have absolutely nothing else to make), and I have finally run out. Also, I feel like a trip is in order. I’m feeling that withdrawal kind of itch, to be in the sweltering market, with the konkani chatter, the Mario Miranda murals, the fresh veggies, the tiny fans and dim lights. This silly IFFI is upon us and it makes the entire market area a bloody nightmare to access. Oh and also, they hog our only INOX for 10 days and I’m at that point where I need to just watch a trashy hindi movie. So yes, IFFI needs to leave now. Thank the Lord it ends today, because I really need to go to the market now.
Given the vast spans of time I now have at my disposal, I feel compelled to deliberate over every little decision. Things like “to go to the market now or not?”, “what veggies to look out for today?”, “shall I run 6 km or 7 km?”, “plain idli? rava idli?”, “wine? G&T?”, “what should I bake today?” — are all taking on monumental proportions.
I’m living the housewife role to the hilt. I say housewife because I delight in little things like figuring out what lunch and dinner is going to be. I’m even cooking hot meals, and delivering lunch to the husband every day. Its an added bit of happiness to the week when I can whip up the odd dessert, and have it ready by the time we’re done with dinner and chilling on the diwan, right before bedtime.
My expenses excel sheet has never been so accurate and up to date, and I am quite the whip-cracker when it comes to reminding the husband about pending bills, odds and ends to be fixed around the house.
Socialising is becoming a measured and planned affair. Choosing what we will do when, with whom and how. And I like it this way. And as if all this is not enough to qualify as a housewife, I must let you in on a whole new level of crazy. I take superlative pleasure in making to-do lists. I was always a list-maker, mildly obsessive-compulsive too, but of late being organised, having things under check and in my control around the house has reached an all new high. Like yesterday for example, I decided to dash out to the slightly fancier super market instead of the regular one, because I wanted fresh chicken as opposed to the frozen stuff (which I want to slowly wean myself off of). I glanced at my shopping list and it looked something like this:
My inner-OCD-list-making-maniac almost did a somersault.
Mundane. But so awesome. Especially when it suddenly hits me that despite choosing to be stuck at home (yes, I’m still not going out like I planned to last week) and doing things like making lists, changing sheets, cooking one meal too many and baking more dessert than I can consume in one go, I feel like my life is fuller. Know what I mean?
Somewhere not so deep inside of me, is a housewife who is slowly but surely getting comfortable in these new shoes. In many ways its like re-discovering an old pair of shoes that lay neglected, gathering filth for many years. The ones I suddenly realised I had forgotten I owned. So I pulled them out, frantically dusted clean and realised just how comfortable they actually are.