So. It’s about time you sat down with your
text books. Time to slog a little, immerse yourself in facts and formulae. The
day’s started late, you should probably get something done before you break for
lunch.
You haul your ass off the sofa, turn the TV
off and slam a pile of books onto your bed. Ha, how disciplined of you, you
think as you flip through your notes. What work ethic. You just dragged
yourself away from the new season of Modern Family. You’ve got your priorities
in place.
‘Nuff of that. To work. Which chapter was
it? Mechanics, lenses, fluids, viscosity… oh lookie, it’s that doodle you drew
the other day. The shading is pretty cool, even if you say so yourself. Sheesh,
and here’s Nilam’s obscene remark about what it looks like. That girl has such
a one track mind. She’s a bit of an idiot. But you should call her and ask how
things are with that pathetic boyfriend of hers. She was upset yesterday. And she’s nice to you, even if she’s a tad
dim. She has a sense of humour; actually she’s a lot of fun. God, she’s
actually a nice chick, Aish and the rest just judge her for no reason. What’s
she done to them? She was helping with their math the other day (ungrateful
schumcks) . Jeez, you should probably call her about this chapter anyway.
Bloody formula. If you can’t make head or tail of it, how the hell are you
supposed to use it? You scowl at the rows of drills and word problems across
the page and dial Nilam’s number.
Shit. The project. The project. How could
you forget? Nilam’s an angel. You’re going to run away with her when all this
is over. The world doesn’t understand you. Nilam does. You guys are soul mates
and evidently, you are bisexual. Good, you can bump off the pathetic boyfriend.
This explains why you hate him so much. Some weird Freudian thingy. Who knew?
Anyway, point being, that you and Jo and
Meera and Manish have a project to submit and how in the name of all that is
holy and good in the world are you ever going to get it done?
Six thousand phone-calls later, you’re
pissed and hungry and finally on your way to submitting that project. Research
topics have been designated and everyone knows what they’re doing. Why does
Manish fuss so much? If he’d just shut up in the beginning, you’d have been
spared about five thousand and seventy three of those phone-calls.
Hell, you’re exhausted and you can’t work
on an empty stomach. Refuelling is in order. And you feel like peanut butter.
You open the bread box and figure you’re
out of bread. Lovely. Because everyone makes sandwiches without bread, right? Does
Flipkart do groceries too? Bread with cash on delivery? You wish. To the shop
then.
When you get back, it’s lunch time, and
you’re thinking that that was the most pointless excursion ever. You could have been working when you were haggling with the
cashier over a plastic bag. God. Lame. So lame. A morning wasted.
Ah well. The notes can wait. At the moment,
your parents have put together a lavish pizza lunch with garlic bread and
whatnot. And dessert is a surprise and who cares about the physics test anyway?
And you can probably manage the bio and chem work on the bus ride to school
tomorrow. You’ll make Nilam help.
