It’s happening again. Those blank stares at screen, missing stations, and forgetting chores are ambushing the rationality. It happens, I agree. We take it with a ‘that too shall pass’ attitude and we carry on. A thump on a back with ‘hello, where are you?’ is enough to get you back on track, but again you find yourself staring obliviously at some corner. There might be many reasons for this. New found love, boobs, mutter paneer. But, in my case, it’s the lack of sleep.
Now let me tell you my schedule. Promise me, you won’t look at me like those filthy rich aunties at a kitty party look at the least rich one. I have to be out of bed by quarter to 5 in the morning. Why? Because, I live on a different planet altogether. I have to travel for an hour and a half to reach the workplace. Also, work starts at 8. Yes, 8! You ‘OMG-MY-OFFICE-IS-AT-10-SO-EARLY’ townie cry baby, it’s at 8. And, though ideally the work gets over by 5-30-6, I have gym after. So, by the time I get done and jump in a train and reach home I am drained completely. And then, it’s a never ending dinner over ‘neighbour kids are pests’ rants by mother and, ‘boss is a swine’ dad talks. I sleep, until mom kicks me the next morning.
Leonard, wake up. Leonard, wake up. Leonard, wake up. Leonard, wake up. Leonard, wake up. Leonard, wake up. Leonard, wake up. Leonard, wake up.
What has sleep deprivation done to me? Here I go…
I jump in the morning train, bagging the window seat by giving the other ladies the ultimate ‘in your face bitches’ look. Then, I throw my bag in the train rack and I doze off. And, then I get up with ‘OH F**K, SHIT, SCREWED I HAD TO GET DOWN AT BANDRA, WHERE AM I? F**KING MUMBAI CENTRAL?’ This happens atleast thrice in a month. It happened today.
At work. Come on think. Come up with a smashing opening line. *Stares* *staring* *still staring* Aarghhh! I need a walk!
At the market, I buy stuff, pay and forget the bags at one of the thelas. Later, Mom becomes Howard Wolowitz’s mom, ‘WHERE THE F**K ARE THE BAGS?’ To which, I respond ‘IT’S OK MA, YOU WILL STILL BE THE BEST MA IF YOU DON’T COOK FOR A DAY.’
I text the other person by the same name.
I pick up TV remote, thinking it to be my phone.
I stare at a sleeping kid like a pervert.
I don’t meet friends on Sunday, because…
If sleep were a person, it would definitely be my cruel ex who doesn’t want to sleep with me anymore. What? Bad one? Well, zzzzzzzz!
localdiaries 