After a week or so of slacking off, feeling horrible about it but unable to get out of that mood, I feel like my old self is creeping back to life. That I began the week by tearing my kitchen down and cleaning it top to down should have been a dead giveaway, of slowly coming back to life. But I didn’t realise it then. It was only after every speck had been dusted off and each of the fifty spiders I displaced from their homes were sent a packing, did I realise I had actually spent over four hours up and about. As opposed to in a pile, in bed, playing Fling! free on my phone (great game for when you’re slacking off or need a distraction, btw).
Today, I seem to have made even more progress! At 4 pm, I realised that I just might have broken this other wretched cycle I have fallen into. Of sacrificing two hours every afternoon in the unwanted practice of perfecting the afternoon siesta. Its like my daily ritual, the few hours I sacrifice towards becoming more Goan every day. My daily act of paying obeisance to the bigness of the sussegad way of life, and letting it remind me that I am a nobody in the face of its mighty power. As the clock strikes two (slightly sooner on days that vast quantities of rice and curd have been consumed), I feel my eyelids weigh down, the words on the page begin to trail off, and sentences seem disjointed. Before I know it, it is 4 o clock and I wake up feeling refreshed and ready to take on the rest of the day!
I wake up feeling like an overslept maami, in need of a stiff cup of kaapi to wake her up.
Technically the cycle of domesticity has been completed, I would say. How else do you explain the fact that it takes a day of cleaning the kitchen to feel better again. And what about the fixed dedication and commitment I seem to be showing towards cultivating this siesta habit? One would think I am in a massive rush to be that kind of aunty. The next thing I know, I might just resort to rising from said nap, making myself a cup of chai, taking it down to the compound where the aunties gossip in their nighties as their kids (blasted kids on summer holidays!) yell and screech, pretending to play cricket.
So its probably a good thing that I unconsciously fought the siesta today. And what do you know, its 5.15 pm and I am not even feeling sleep deprived! (Small victories, remember?)
Now I only have to tackle that small issue of constantly finding something more fun to do (read: twitter, blogs, cooking) at the exact moment that I remind myself I have work to do. But given the drastic progress I have made this week, that seems easy-peasy.