“Eh.” I say, slumping on the couch in my sweat pants of two days.
We drink instant coffee in mismatched cups.
“How about good dinner?” Husband inquires.
“Huh?” I say disoriented, stuffing dirty laundry into the washing machine.
We eat Maggi and sip Coke.
“There’s a new movie out, wanna go?” Husband says.
“Pfttttt!” I say, pointing at Baby G who’s clapping happily at her new toy.
We watch Baby TV, followed by Oggy And The Cockroaches.
“There was a cocktail party tonight, but you not going out much these days, I said no.” Husband mentions casually.
“WHYYYY?” I wail loudly. “Why would you do that to me?” I shout.
I cry. He sulks.
So summers are officially over and the town where I am at this time of the year, is basically a hill station – all breezy and rainy and romantic as hell. But my stand on rains have always been complicated. I like it when its raining but not so much. And I hate the muddy feet on my carpet, the clothes-not-drying thing and the can’t-go-out part about rains. I mean, you’re almost on a house arrest till it rains, and its damn irritating. But then again, there have been times when husband and I did not hate rains so much.
You see, about a year or two back, when the husband and I were in the same town, we would high five each other when it started to rains, and went for romantic long drives. Or stayed at home snuggling. There would be hot cups of coffee or warm chocolate brownies, and there would be a romantic song, and we would smile non stop. Those were the good days. Now, the scene has changed.
Baby G totally hates sleeping and I’m sure will soon be diagnosed with hyperactivity syndrome (I’m sure there is one). That makes me perpetually tired. No. Make that exhausted to-the-bones. I think I’m getting old. He thinks I’m jaded. I say no and he readily accepts. Basically we’re now a couple who likes to camp indoors and do nothing.We both lie on our bed amongst the plastic Legos and the ear buds that Baby G was playing with before finally sleeping, and we silently listen to the rain pouring outside.
“I hate rains.” I say.
“Ditto.” He says.
“Rains annoy us.” he declares.
“It does!” I say.
“We agree.” He points out.
We smile and high five.
See? It is the damn rain. Don’t blame it on age.