I wonder sometimes, if I have lost my sense of humor.
A few days back, I mistakenly left my front door unlocked at night. A stray dog walked in and curled up on the couch. I slept peacefully, so did he. So far, so good.
Cut to, Next morning.
The milkman's bell awakens me, I force myself out of the bed, pick up the milk coupons from top of the fridge, and SEE THE MILKMAN STANDING IN THE DOOR!
"The door was open, sister," he says quickly, before I scream. And holds up two Amul milk packets for me. I wordlessly take them, and lock the door.
Instead of relief, I am filled with a dread as I survey the drawing room in the dim early morning light AND SEE THE DOG LOOKING AT ME FROM THE COUCH!
He jumps up as I scream, the milk packets fall on the floor with a flop, he runs inside to the kitchen, I run to the door, open it wide, run back to the bedroom, shut the bedroom door and start banging on it, yelling OUT GET OUT THE DOOR IS OPEN OUT!
After two minutes, I open the door a crack. Slurp, slurp. The dog is licking the cold, still intact milk packets on the floor. NO! I yell at him. He jumps in fright, back on the couch!
And, right in front of a hysterical woman, his legs quivering with fear, the dog pisses on the couch. After he is done, he sheepishly makes his exit.
Cut to, later in the day. As I am cleaning the mattress in the sun, I tell the story to my maidservant. She laughs. I mock laugh. But I am hurt, almost angry at her.
Cut to, few days later, writing this post, I worry. A few years earlier, I would have laughed, giggled my head off. Now, I am too much of a mother to laugh even with my angel. I smile when he laughs, but I can't share the joke.
Laughter can be such a beautiful , such an utter deep breather. Please somebody out there, make me laugh. Don't bore me no more, and don't sing no song. I am tired of words, just make me laugh.