Time to myself

Time to myself

“Enough is enough,” said Gowri to herself as if to convince herself that she had arrived at the right decision. There was a firmness, an I’ll-brook-no nonsense edge to her tone. She had a good and satisfying job but she felt the time had come to call a halt.

There were more important things in life than to be shackled to a job in which there were times when she couldn’t call her soul her own. She wanted to be free, relaxed and do what she wanted when she wanted. That wasn’t possible when she held a job. So she quit, thinking she would have the time to stand and stare. But it didn’t turn out like that at all.

When she walked her daughter to school, she thought she was getting some good exercise. She did but she also got inveigled into a few school activities “as you have spare time now.” It seemed churlish to refuse. Problems cropped up on the home front. To start with, her car had to be sent to the garage. She welcomed this as a respite. Then the taps in the house decided to dry up. After much running around and several phone calls, they managed to settle it.

She had envisaged a life of ease and relaxation after giving up her job. After a leisurely lunch, lounge with a book, wander aimlessly, watch movies, tend the garden and generally spend her time as she pleased without deadlines to meet. Her hopes were dashed.

She had hardly recovered from getting the water supply restored, when there was a electrical problem and the whole household was disrupted. Fortunately, it was a minor issue which was fixed after a few hours of outage. Then it was the turn of the washing machine, which meant getting the mechanic to see to it. That isn’t as simple as it sounds. She had to await His Highness’ convenience, hanging around the better part of the day, waiting for him.

Spring, the poet said, is not far behind winter. So the water purifier developed trouble. By the time the man came to set it right, the morning had passed. Not to be left out, all that she could get out of the TV was a blank screen. She called the cable operator, but was informed that he had gone elsewhere. When she called next, he had gone for lunch. Finally, he came towards the evening. Her daughter had an exam and all hopes of watching Netflix were shelved.

Just when she thought she would get a break, the bank wanted her to put in an appearance. It was about some minor detail but it involved several trips, what with banks having a holiday every other day.
For the time being, the crises seemed to blow over. As she collapsed into the depths of an armchair, she recalled her aunt’s words. “Don’t blow yourself into a frazzle. Such are the vicissitudes of life!”