bra dropper

it's dismal.

disappointing.

annoying.

pretty darn fucked up.

i thought i was done, we all thought i was done, we all thought the last of the assignment was finally, finally signed off on. for weeks, i felt like i was dangled 45 degrees towards the sharp stones below the cliff, standing at the edge of unsteady ground, held by a rope around the chest fixed to a tree behind me. and just when i think the rope's going to give way and i'm tilting lower towards certain death, i finished the assignment, feels like someone came to the rescue, untying the knot of the rope around the tree to pull me upright and back to safe ground.

and then the boss drops the bomb even he didn't expect. oh, we're not quite finished.

the knot came loose too quickly and i fall.

the next few weeks will determine if i grab hold of a branch and climb my way back to happy, happy days. my weeks at the office are coming to an end, and i am trying to snap myself to reality, that Dali, yes, you have to pack the house. i have enough bubble wrap to keep a certain bubble wrap addict friend of mine occupied for decades, and enough cartons to pack 10 Most Disliked Colleagues to an uninhabited Pacific island.

Pearly was right - no matter what Dali, make sure he arrives first with all the boxes, that he settles in first or you're stuck with all the shit. too late, huns, i am already stuck with all the shit. and, she has two maids, a driver and a cook. i am the two maids, driver and cook. and when we have kids, i will also be the milk pumpin' ass-kickin' cow.

it's tough being a woman, multi-tasking is such a specific talent.

on top of that, a certain friend whose name starts with letters E-D-N is also eagerly waiting my first batch of homebaked cookies packed in homemade clay jars to be FedEx-ed to K.L. from Dubai.

i sit on the sofa, stare at the bubble wrap and cartons, and raise my eyebrows. where the fuck do i start? i think in the following chronological order
1. where do i start?
2. *mentally ticks off giant items that will not be part of the packing list* and thinks
3. oh, actually, we do not have that much stuff
4. *imagines self bent over last box, wiping sweat off bushy brow* and thinks
5. how the fuck did we amass these many things?

i do this at least three times a week. it's cathartic, raising eyebrows and widening eyes to perimeters of hairline. it stretches your facial muscles, not to mention the fine creases around your eyes.

so i've decided that i'll pack in the following order
1. Ravi's books, files, notes
2. my books
3. our videos
4. clothes + shoes (damn you, honey, which man has this many shoes?)
5. sophisticated kitchen machinery

and then pack myself off! yahooooooo!

and now, before i leave to vote for my country's (and my own) future, i will leave you to watch a video that all of us from girls' schools never told anyone else about, that we went around doing this same thing to our friends. this guy cracked it, how to unhook a bra really, really quickly. hell, he's even faster than me!