Of Curtains, Crockery and Cupboards

A week back: 

As a kid i never played 'ghar ghar' with friends or my sister. In fact the few times my mum tried getting us miniature kitchen sets, i bent all those tiny plates and spoons and buried the pressure cooker in the garden.

And now i'm all set to play house in real life. You can smell my fear and see the panic in my eyes from a mile.

For the last fortnight the Fellow and i have been making rounds of showrooms and shops looking at everything from refrigerators, microwaves and washing machines to table cloths, bedsheets and towels. Needless to say the decision making centers in my brain are close to being fried. I'm seeing curtains and crockery in my dreams. The salespeople have begun greeting us like long lost friends (when they arent rolling their eyes at the weird couple who go shopping everyday)!

Each morning we start the day (well at least i do) by making a list of everything that still needs to be bought. But the only result of this is that apparently no matter how much you buy, the lists never end and that i always misplace my lists. 

And then there is a matter of space. Where will i put everything? Are there enough cupboards and shelves? Are they big enough? The thought haunts my every waking moment (when i'm not paralysed by the very idea of growing up and being responsible. Shudder). For the first time i appreciated the enormity of the task my mother has been achieving for so many years in a city where even dogs wag their tails vertically for lack of space. So for now (and for the Fellow's peace of mind) i'm going to give into the conflicting neurosis in me and continue buying stuff whilst panicking (internally only) about where i'm going to keep it all. 

Today:

The Fellow and i now have our own house with a functioning kitchen and everything. We were just ready to heave a sigh of relief, when, without any warning, it was time to hire houselhold help, something i assumed mothers do and surely not my cup of tea. Recollecting my first interview with prospective maids gives me shudders (dont know which was worse - the fact that i had barely woken up in the morning and was faced with such a task or that these ladies were addressing me as 'baby'!!). Anywho, the maids have been hired, an extortionist gardner sent his way, and arrangements with the vegetable vendor made. There are curtains on the windows and photographs on the walls. The kitchen is emanating delicious smells and the refrigerator is humming away reassuringly. Television is as annoying as it was and the broadband connection as good. A game of Scrabble is on and Calvin and Hobbes await their turn to entertain. 

All's good in my little world.