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| Home | Issues | The Daily Star Home | Volume 5, Issue 24, Tuesday June 17, 2008 |
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For instance...if any of our electrical appliances malfunctioned, he would just have to open one of the drawers and find all the warranties and other necessary papers/booklets, in transparent Ziploc bags, size and date co-ordinated. Then, now, if he needs painkillers for his headache from all that crying (remember...flashback...I am dead), he now again, just has to open yet another identical drawer for all the medicine he needs, expiry dates highlighted. Boy, am I good or what!!! And, now after his meal, if he needs some help digesting all the food he has to have which has come from different houses as is customary after someone dies...yes...diary, even you know the drill now...another drawer, stacked with all the paan masalas and chatpat stuff to suck on. Now, after my drawers, let us move on to my cupboards. If he now opens any one of them, he will see a neat little list stuck on the inside of one of the doors telling him or anybody, what exactly is in that allotted space. Isn't that absolutely, freaking awful...sorry...awesome? Now moving on to my personal photograph collection. My friends are going to love me for that. All our special events, dated with comments, that I can just picture them saying..."Awwwww...she was such a sweetheart." Now, what actually startled me was this latest incident. I was in my car going towards Gulshan 2, when I suddenly remembered that I had to drop some money at a friend's house. So I had the cash with me... but how could I give the money in a hand-to-hand combat, an envelope was needed. So you know how some cars have pockets at the back of their front seat, I gingerly peered into it hoping for a crushed envelope at least to save the day. But to my utmost horror, what do I see? Deep inside the crevice of the pocket, not only is there a crisp bundle of white envelopes, wrapped in a band, it also had cello tape, a pen, name cards, a small notepad, a miniature stapler, passport size photos of mine, a calculator and finally vials of perfume. Since it was hard to twist my arm to pat myself on the back, I did the next best thing...squealed in appreciation so loudly that my poor driver did not know what hit him...literally! Anyway diary, all said and done, I must seem like a pretty scary person to you. I am rather scared of myself nowadays. But what is there to do? Such is age and senility. Obviously, I do not mind being me, but I am sorry for the people around me. Why I say this to you is yet again an Asif story. Today he and my husband used my car for God knows what reason, and off course I had to answer to his queries why I had perfumes in so many varieties in my car. All I can say to him diary, through you is... what were you doing poking in my pockets? (pun intended). So, on that note I bid you adieu diary, only to say...have a good day the Sam Q way. I just loved this simple, wonderful dish. It was a big hit with my family and friends.
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