Therapy or Torture?

Blogdosts…. Now I kinda like that name. Its like we are a secret team, conspiring to create the next best whatever. Today was a shopping weekend. Needed to buy a lot of unrelated, unrequired things. Of course you may ask why buy the not required? But that’s my next hobby. Buy first and through out the week try to find some use for that impulse purchase. (Read, hubby giving very dirty looks every time confessions of unnecessary purchase surfaces).

So this time I went to the kitchen items aisle and picked up a box of 25 containers. My excuse? It was on a sale. Now I am home, I don’t need 25 extra containers, the ones that I now have are already conspiring against the new arrivals by not giving an inch of a space on the shelves. Poor boxes are still in their packaging. To top it my husband is already expecting some exotic new dish to magically arrive in those containers. How the men link every purchase to a cinematic fantasy is beyond me.

OK its not called shopping nowadays. It’s rechristened Retail Therapy. A cure for my inner conflict of having a pretty constant life and the only change that happens is my occasional change in lipstick color. And don’t I just hate that? Living the NRI life, my weekends also have this call your relatives routine.

And I hate the so-what’s-happening-in-your-life question every time it is asked, sometimes a few hundred times every call. I have tried Hmm nothing much, you tell me, even the sarcastic Oh I’m a boring sort of person routine but the question has become a kind of opening statement. So I am waiting for the fantasy and inspirational anecdotes that I can conjure up.

How does seeing a mysterious looking stone in each of the 25 containers sound?

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